Mr. Larabee, the next day, completed his preparations for returning to The Firs, and Dick began to pack for his trip to New York. He offered to drive his uncle to the railroad station in his auto runabout, but Mr. Larabee did not trust autos.
"Besides," he added, "you might run over somebody, and then they'd bring a suit for damages, and I'd be liable for part of it, on account of being in the car with you. No, I'll walk and save the street-car fare."
"I'll take all responsibility for the damage," promised Dick, but his uncle would not agree to an auto trip, and walked.
As Mr. Larabee said good-by to his brother-in-law and nephew, he murmured to himself:
"I certainly must put my plan into operation. That boy Richard has absolutely no idea of the value of money. I must save him from himself and his father. I certainly must."
Uncle Ezra was very thoughtful on his way home that day. Riding in the train he worked out the details of a plot that was destined to have a very important effect on Dick's life.
"It's a little risky," thought Mr. Larabee, as the train neared Dankville station, "and it's going to cost me considerable, but I can get it back from the Hamilton fortune in the end, and I can charge interest on whatever I spend. It's in a good cause, and I'll do it, for I must teach Richard the value of a dollar!"
Mr. Larabee reached home, and was welcomed by his wife, who carefully watched him to see that he wiped his feet as he entered the house. He told of his visit to his brother-in-law's house, and denounced Mr. Hamilton's action in letting Dick have a steam yacht. Then, after a frugal meal, the lights were put out, to save kerosene oil, and the gloomy house of The Firs was shrouded in darkness.
But, somehow, Uncle Ezra Larabee couldn't sleep. He tossed from side to side in the bed, and, now and then, he muttered to himself:
"I'll do it! I vum I'll do it! It's the only way."
His wife noted his restlessness.
"What's the matter, Ezra?" she asked. "Can't you sleep? Are you sick?"
"Nope. I'm all right."
But Mr. Larabee wasn't. Sleep would not come to him. He was busy thinking of many things,but chief of all was a plan he had evolved to save Dick Hamilton from what the old man thought was a trip that would "waste" much money.
"I've got to do it," murmured Uncle Ezra to the darkness all about him. "It may not be accordin' to strict law, but it's justice. I've got to do it," and he turned wearily from one side of the bed to the other as he worked out the details of his plot.
"For land sakes!" exclaimed his wife at length, for she was being kept awake, "can't you doze off, Ezra?"
"No, I can't seem to, Samanthy."
"Maybe your railroad trip upsot ye?"
"No, I guess not. I think I'll sleep now. I've had lots to think of, Samanthy."
Once more he shifted his position and tried to close his eyes, but they would not stay shut. He found himself staring up at the ceiling in the darkness.
He arose, got a drink of water, and came back to bed. But he seemed more wide-awake than ever.
"Ezra," called his wife again, "are you thinkin' of the dollar an' nineteen cents you once lost? Maybe that's what's keepin' you awake."
"No, it ain't that, Samanthy."
"Then, what is it?"
"I can't tell you."
"Why, Ezra. You ain't in trouble; be ye? You ain't goin' to keep a secret from me; be ye?"
"I ain't in trouble, no, Samanthy, but I've got to keep this thing quiet until—well, until I'm ready to tell it."
"But what's it about, Ezra?"
"Well, it's about Nephew Richard and his money. He'll run through his mother's fortune in no time, if I don't take a hand and save it."
"Do tell, Ezra! What are you goin' to do?"
"Samanthy, I'm going to do something desperate! I've got to do it to save Dick. Why, his father's as crazy as he is about spending money. I've got to do something desperate."
"You—you won't get arrested for it; will you, Ezra?"
"I hope not. But go to sleep, Samanthy. I'll tell you about it—when it's time," and, having thus gotten this much of the plot off his mind, Uncle Ezra turned over and went to sleep. But he did not have pleasant dreams.
Bearing a letter to his father's attorneys in New York, Messrs. Blake & Carrington, Dick started for the metropolis the second day after his uncle's visit.
"Now use your own judgment about getting your yacht," said the millionaire to his son, "but, of course, be guided by the lawyers. Buying a steam craft is rather a large operation, especially if you don't know much about it."
Highly elated at the prospect of the good times before him, Dick sat in the parlor car of the fast express, as he was whirled toward the big city, and made plan after plan.
"I'll get a lot of the fellows, some from the academy and some from town, and we'll have a glorious time yachting," he told himself. "We'll go up the New England coast, and down to Florida and maybe even to Bermuda and to Cuba, and—by Jove I've a good notion to try to double Cape Horn! That would be something to talk about when I got back."
It did not seem to occur to Dick that he waslaying out sufficient travel for several vacations, all in one. But it's lots of fun to make plans, especially when you have the money to carry them out—and sometimes even when you haven't.
Dick reached Manhattan after a day and night of travel, registered at a hotel that his father frequently stopped at when in New York, and was shown to a suite of rooms that suited his ideas of luxury. They were not too elaborate, consisting of a bedroom, sitting-room and bath, but they were tastefully furnished. After a dinner, at which he ordered as the chief dish lobster, principally because he seldom could get it fresh at home, he went to a theatre.
"I'll see the lawyers the first thing in the morning," thought Dick, "and then the sooner I can buy that yacht the better. I'm anxious to get out to sea."
Mr. Blake, the senior partner of the firm, received the young millionaire cordially next morning.
"Your father wrote to me some time ago," he said, "stating that you might come on to select a steam craft, and so I have been on the lookout for one for you. I have several in view, and if you wish we'll go and take a look at them."
"Nothing would suit me better," announced Dick, eagerly.
Piloted by the attorney, Dick was taken to the anchorage of the New York Yacht Club.
There were several trim craft there, whichcould be purchased, and Dick was shown over them by the persons in charge. One was a rakish-looking, clipper-built boat, constructed more for speed than for comfort. It was a beautiful craft, but Dick decided he did not care for swift sailing, and would rather have more room.
Another yacht, theIsabelleseemed to him, at first, to be just right. She had new engines and boilers, and was magnificently fitted up. But the price was very high, and, while Dick could have afforded it, Mr. Blake pointed out that the yacht would require a crew of about twenty-five men, and Dick did not think he cared to preside, as captainpro tem, over such a force.
"I want something smaller, I think," he said.
"That's my own opinion," remarked Mr. Blake.
They had exhausted the possibilities at the Yacht Club anchorage, so the lawyer proposed a trip to St. George, Staten Island, off which several yachts, that their owners wished to dispose of, were anchored. There Dick found three which would have suited him, but Mr. Blake advised him not to commit himself, but to look further before deciding.
"We'll go over to Brooklyn," proposed the lawyer. "We may as well put in the entire day, for buying a steam yacht is not to be disposed of too lightly."
As they were taken out in a small motorboat, past several yachts at anchor, they passed one, over the rail of which an old, grizzled man wasleaning, calmly smoking a short, black pipe. He was a veritable picture of an "old sea dog," and Dick's eyes danced with pleasure at the sight of him. A moment later his gaze wandered to the yacht herself. He could not repress a murmur of admiration.
"What's the matter?" asked Mr. Blake.
"That yacht," replied the young millionaire. "That's exactly my idea of what I want. I wonder if we can buy her?"
"I don't know, but it's easy to find out."
The lawyer directed the engineer of the motorboat to put them alongside. As Dick approached nearer his admiration grew, until he had made up his mind that if the interior suited him as well as did the outside that boat would be his.
He saw the name on her stern as they approached—Albatross—and even that pleased him. The yacht was a trim craft, narrow enough in beam to indicate speed, with a high bow to take a heavy sea well, and long enough to afford plenty of room, while her breadth was not such as to make her too much of a roller, or wallower, in the trough of the sea.
Two slender masts, for auxiliary sails, and for signal flags, with the conductors of a wireless apparatus strung between them, rose fore and aft of a buff-colored funnel, rakishly set. In short, the yacht was a beauty.
"On board theAlbatross!" called Mr. Blake, when they were within hailing distance.
"Aye, aye, sir," answered the old sea dog, pulling at his cap.
"I understand that yacht is for sale," went on the lawyer, for, on consulting a list he had, he saw that she was among those he had put down to examine.
"She might be, if any one had the money," replied the old sailor, stuffing his thumb into the bowl of his pipe, to tamp down the tobacco.
"Well, I have the money," spoke Dick, quickly.
"Then come aboard, if you please, sir," was the more genial reply, and the old man walked forward to where an accommodation ladder was suspended, and lowered it.
The young millionaire observed that the old sailor walked with a limp, and he at once made up his mind that he had a wooden leg. This diagnosis was confirmed when Dick and Mr. Blake stepped on deck a few seconds later.
"Well, here's theAlbatross, and she's for sale, more's the pity," went on the old man, respectfully. "Many's the voyage I've sailed in her when Mr. Richardson was alive. But he's dead, and the pretty craft's on the market. I'm stayin' here to look after her, and d'ye know," and his voice sank to a whisper, "I've had half a notion, more'n once, to hist the anchor, make sail, an' start for Davy Jones' locker, me an' her together. For I've been on her for so long that she's like a wife to me."
"Then she is an old boat?" asked Mr. Blake, apprehensively.
"Old enough to know how to weather many a storm that some of the new-fangled craft wouldn't dare venture out in. The only thing I have agin' her is that she's a steamer instead of a sailer, but with her engines stopped she can pick up a bone in her teeth when all her canvas is spread," added the old man, proudly. "She has new engines and boilers, and she's fit to make a trip around the world starting to-morrow; and I wish she was!"
"Maybe she will!" cried Dick, enthusiastically. "I think I'll take her, Mr. Blake. TheAlbatrossis just what I want."
"Wait until you go below," suggested the lawyer with a smile. "Will you show us down, Mr.—er—Mr.—?" he paused significantly.
"Widkin is my name—Ebenezer Widkin," answered the old sailor, with a touch of his cap. "An' you can take your choice by callin' me Ebby or Widdy. Most of 'em calls me Widdy," he added with a grin, "in consequence of me never havin' married."
"Well, then, Widdy, take us below," suggested Mr. Blake, and soon he and Dick were exploring the interior of the craft. If the exterior, with its snow-white decks and mahogany rails, its ample companionways and other details had captivated Dick, the cabins, engine room, dining saloon and galley completed the conquest.
"I'll take her!" he said enthusiastically to Mr.Blake. "She's just big enough, and not too big. The engines are new, and she's fitted up just as I want." Dick stood in the owner's cabin, the most elaborate one on the yacht.
"Well, it's up to you, as the boys say," remarked the lawyer. "Of course, there are many details to be looked after, but if you are satisfied, we won't seek further. I'll see the owner's representatives, and negotiate with them."
"Is there—if I might be so bold as to ask, sir," began Widdy, as he shall be called, "is there a chance of the yacht being put into commission, sir?"
"Every chance!" cried Dick, with sparkling eyes. "Every chance, Widdy."
"An' would you—that is, do you think you could find room for such a worn-out old sea dog as me on board? I'm a A1 sailor, sir, even if I have a wooden leg, an' I can do my share with the best of 'em, if I do say it myself."
"I think I'd be very glad to have you as a member of the crew," answered Dick, for he had taken a liking to the old man.
"Thank you, sir, for sayin' that. Many's the day I've sat here, smokin' my pipe lonesome-like, wishin' some millionaire would come along and buy her. Why, would you believe it," and his voice sank to a whisper, "I've even been thinkin' of turnin' pirate myself, an' pickin' up a crew of my old mates to navigate her, I've been that desperate for action, sir."
"Well, if everything goes right, you'll soon have plenty of action," promised the young millionaire. "I intend to take a long voyage, and nothing would suit me better than to go in theAlbatross."
"And you couldn't find a better craft to sail in, if you was to search the world over!" cried Widdy. "There! I've said it, and dash my lee scuppers! I'll stand by it in fair weather or foul! I've got a prospect of action at last, an' I'm a bit excited-like, but you must excuse me."
Then, with a sudden motion, he took his short, black clay pipe from his mouth, dashed it to the deck, where it broke into a score of pieces. Then, drawing a new clay from his pocket, and breaking off the stem short, he proceeded to fill it with tobacco, and light it. Next he stumped off after a deck swab, with which he proceeded to clean up the fragments of pipe and ashes.
"I'm a bit excited at times," he went on more calmly, "but I don't mean nothin' by it. I'll smoke a new pipe to the new owner," he added. "How soon can we sail?" he whispered hoarsely, with his hand to his mouth, as though much depended on the secrecy of the answer.
"It will be hard to say, at present," answered Mr. Blake for Dick, "but, if all goes well, probably within a couple of weeks."
"Then, splice my mizzen-shrouds but you'll find me ready an' waitin'!" cried Widdy. "Ready an' waitin'!"
"Very well," said Dick, with a jolly laugh. "And I hope we'll have many voyages together."
"By Neptune's whiskers, sir, so do I!" retorted Widdy, and he blew out a great cloud of smoke.
Mr. Blake and his youthful client returned to shore in the motor craft, and the lawyer promised to at once start negotiations looking to the purchase of the yacht. As a measure of precaution, however, he insisted that a competent expert be hired to examine the hull, engines and boilers, and, though this meant a little delay, Dick felt obliged to consent to it.
There was nothing more to be done that day, and, after having sent a telegram to his father, describing theAlbatrossin brief, and stating that he had made up his mind to purchase her, Dick went back to his hotel.
As he was turning down a quiet street leading to it, he became aware that two men were regarding him rather closely. They were coming from the opposite direction, and as they passed him they gave Dick sharp glances.
"Humph! They'll know me again, at any rate," thought the lad. Then he dismissed the incident from his mind. He was used to a certain sort of publicity and attention, for, on a previous visit to New York, his trip had been made much of by the sensational papers, and he had been credited with doing many eccentric things of which he never even dreamed. His picture had been frequently published, and he was more or less staredat. He thought this was but a reflection of that episode.
Being fond of theatres, Dick decided to go to another play that evening. He called up Mr. Blake, asking him to accompany him, but the lawyer had another engagement, so Dick started off alone.
He thoroughly enjoyed the performance, and as he came out to get into a taxicab, to return to his hotel, he noticed that two men, who were standing near the vehicle which he had summoned, were looking at him rather more closely than at other persons in the street.
Dick glanced at them. As he did so one of the men made a remark to the other, and both turned quickly to one side, but not before the youth had had a chance to look at their faces.
"Why, they're the same fellows I met this afternoon, near the hotel," he said to himself. "They must think I'm quite a curiosity."
He entered the taxicab, and was rapidly whirled toward his stopping place. His mind was filled with thoughts of his steam yacht, and with chance adventures that might happen on the cruise. Possibly, if he had seen the actions of the two men, immediately after his departure, he would have not felt so easy.
For the twain, no sooner had Dick entered his vehicle, summoned another.
"Follow that car," directed the taller of thepair. "Don't let it get away from you, and there's a fiver in it."
"You're rather free with the old man's money, ain't you, Sam?" asked the short man, with a laugh.
"Might as well be. He's so close-fisted that it'll do him good to be bled a bit. But hit it up, sport," this to the chauffeur of the taxicab they were in. "I don't want to lose our young friend."
"All right," was the answer, and after Dick's vehicle sped the other, containing the two men who were shadowing him.
The young millionaire was hungry, after the three hours spent in the theatre, and, knowing of a restaurant famed for its late suppers, Dick determined to go there, partly to see some of the gayer side of life in New York at midnight, and partly to satisfy his appetite. Accordingly he gave directions to the chauffeur, who, after speeding the machine down Broadway, turned into Twenty-third Street.
As the vehicle swung around the corner a lad, who was crossing the thoroughfare, had to jump nimbly to get out of the way. He reached the curb, and standing there shook his fist at the occupants of the taxicab—Dick and the driver.
"What's the matter?" cried the lad who had so nearly escaped being run down. "Ain't the street big enough for you? Or do you want to chase folks up on the sidewalk?"
"Aw, beat it!" retorted the chauffeur, with all the contempt some automobilists feel for pedestrians. He had slowed up at the turn, but was about to turn on more power.
"Wait! Hold on a minute!" cried Dick, leaning forward at the sound of the other lad's voice, and a sight of his face in the gleam of an electric lamp. "How are you, Tim Muldoon?"
For a moment the other stared at the well-dressed youth in the taxicab, for the vehicle had come to a stop. Then over the features came a look of glad surprise.
"Why, if it isn't Mr. Hamilton!" cried the lad in the street. "Who'd ever think to see you here? How are you, Mr. Hamilton?"
"Make it Dick, if you don't mind, Tim," suggested the millionaire's son. "I'm Dick and you're Tim," and the wealthy lad reached out and shook hands with the lad, whom he had once befriended as a "fresh-air kid," and who, later, he had set up in the newspaper business. Tim Muldoon, a typical New York newsboy, had accompanied Dick on a trip out west, to inspect a gold mine, and had been instrumental in aiding him. Our hero had not seen his protégé in some time, though he knew him at once when the auto so nearly ran him down.
"Well, well, Tim," went on Dick. "What have you been doing with yourself since last we met? You've have grown considerable. Is the paper business good?"
"Fine, thanks to the start you gave me, Mr. Ham—I mean Dick. I'm running three stands now, and I have two assistants. I get time to goto night school, now, and I'm studying bookkeeping."
Dick had noticed that Tim spoke better language than formerly, for the use of "dis," "dat," "youse" and kindred expressions was almost entirely eliminated from his conversation.
"Where are you going now, Tim?" asked Dick, when they had exchanged some remarks.
"Home. I've just finished work. Have to get ready for the early morning papers soon, though, so I'm bound for home."
"No, you're not!" exclaimed the rich youth. "You're coming to have something to eat with me. It's lonesome dining alone. Come on, hop in and we'll be there in no time. Then I'll run you up home in this buzz-wagon."
"But, Dick, I haven't any decent clothes on. I've been working and——"
"Nonsense! What do I care about clothes? Get in. We'll hire a private room if you're so afraid some one will see you."
"It isn't that, only you——"
"Don't you worry about me; get in."
Tim complied, rather diffidently, and the much-wondering chauffeur started the car again. As it went along there was another closely following it, and, as the vehicle containing Dick and Tim made various turns and twists through the different streets, to reach the restaurant, the other taxicab did the same. Finally Tim, whose life in New York had made him quick-witted alongcertain lines, leaned out of the open cab, looked back and said:
"Any of your friends in that machine, Dick?"
"Friends? No. Why?"
"Because it's sticking to us like court-plaster. Say, sport," and Tim leaned forward to the chauffeur, "are you wise to de—I meanthefact that we're being chased?"
"Hadn't noticed it," replied the driver, shortly.
"Well, we are. Is it a fly-cop; or has your license expired?"
"Search me," was the characteristic reply of the chauffeur. "But we'll give 'em a run for their money," and increasing speed, he turned first down one street and up another until, after five minutes' run, the other cab was not in sight.
"We either lost 'em, or else they got wise and dropped back," was Tim's opinion. "But who were they, Dick?"
"I can't imagine, unless they are some cranks who like to look at a chap because he has a little money. Maybe they're fellows who hope to work me for some game like Colonel Dendon did, when he tried to sell me fake mining shares. I've noticed a couple of men who kept rather close watch on me once or twice to-day, but I guess we've lost track of them. Well, here we are; come in and have a good meal."
Dick paid, and dismissed the chauffeur, for other taxicabs could be summoned at the restaurant. As the young millionaire and Tim enteredthe place another machine came to a stop near the curb, a short distance away.
"Thought they'd fool us, didn't they, Sam?" asked one of the two men who alighted from it.
"They sure did, but it isn't so easy to lose us. We're right after him."
"You're not going to attempt anything to-night, are you?"
"No, I just want to get the lay of things. I think we can work the racket better from a boat-end, as he'll fall easier for that; so we'll wait a couple of days. We've got lots of time, and the graft is too good to shorten up," after which rather enigmatical words, the two men sauntered past the restaurant, inside of which Dick and Tim could be seen seated at a table.
The two friends—friends in spite of the differences in their stations—had a jolly time over their meal, Dick telling Tim something about the proposed yachting trip, and the newsboy, in turn, relating some of his experiences in the great city. True to his promise, Dick insisted on taking Tim home in another auto, which he summoned, and then, rather later than he was in the habit of turning in, the young millionaire sought his hotel well satisfied with his evening's pleasure.
"Well, he's safe for to-night, anyhow," remarked one of two men, as they saw Dick pass through the hotel lobby. "Now we can get some sleep." They had resumed their shadowing from the restaurant.
"Yes, and we'll try the game to-morrow, or next day," responded the other.
Dick's first visit after breakfast was to the office of Mr. Blake, the lawyer. The attorney was not in, but a clerk informed the young millionaire that matters concerning the purchase of theAlbatrosswere proceeding satisfactorily. It would take several days, Dick was told.
"Well, the best thing I can do is to amuse myself," he remarked, as he left the lawyer's office. He strolled back to the hotel, intending to take a bath, and don a new suit he had just received from the tailor. As he went up to the desk to get the key of his room, the clerk handed him a letter, with the remark:
"Messenger left that for you a little while ago, Mr. Hamilton."
Dick read it hastily. It said:
"Dear Mr. Hamilton: I am trying to hurry along matters concerned with the purchase of your yacht. I have seen the present owners, but there appears to be a slight hitch, to use a nautical term. I have another vessel in view, in case we can not get the one you want. I expect to be aboard her this morning. Could you meet me on her? She is thePrincess, and is anchored off One Hundred and Eightieth Street. Suppose you run up there? You will find a launch at the dock to bring you out. I think, in case we can notsecure theAlbatross, that you will like this vessel fully as well. Come if you can."Yours sincerely,"James Blake."
"Dear Mr. Hamilton: I am trying to hurry along matters concerned with the purchase of your yacht. I have seen the present owners, but there appears to be a slight hitch, to use a nautical term. I have another vessel in view, in case we can not get the one you want. I expect to be aboard her this morning. Could you meet me on her? She is thePrincess, and is anchored off One Hundred and Eightieth Street. Suppose you run up there? You will find a launch at the dock to bring you out. I think, in case we can notsecure theAlbatross, that you will like this vessel fully as well. Come if you can.
"Yours sincerely,"James Blake."
"Can't get theAlbatross!" thought Dick, in dismay. "That will be too bad! I'll never care for any other yacht as I did for her. But I suppose I'd better go and see Mr. Blake. Queer, though, that they didn't tell me in the office how things were. Maybe they didn't know, or this may have cropped up after I left. I'll go and see the other boat, anyhow."
Dick started for the anchorage of thePrincess, and, as he was about to engage a taxicab, he bethought himself of the old sailor on theAlbatross.
"Widdy would be just the one to take along," reasoned Dick. "He knows all about yachts—more than either Mr. Blake or myself. I've a good notion to go get him, and see what he has to say. Even if we do have to take a different craft from theAlbatross, I'd like Widdy to sail with me. I'll go get him."
The old sailor, who knew nothing of the hitch in the arrangements to sell the yacht he was on, was a bit surprised at Dick's proposition, but readily agreed to accompany him. He left one of his on-shore acquaintances in charge of theAlbatross.
"But as fer findin' as good a boat as that," said Widdy, waving his hand toward her, as he andDick were speeding shoreward in a motor launch, "you can't do it. Split my lee scuppers if you can!"
And Dick, with a sigh, agreed with him. His heart was set on theAlbatross.
At the foot of One Hundred and Eightieth Street Dick and the old sea dog found a small motorboat in waiting.
"Is this the launch of thePrincess?" asked Dick of the man in charge.
"No, it's a public launch, but I can take you out to her in it. There's the yacht, out there. A gentleman on board told me he was expecting a visitor, and I said I'd wait around and bring him out. Are you the one?"
"I expect so," answered the young millionaire, and his eyes were taking in the details of the yachtPrincess. He did not like her, at first view. She was too small, and there was none of that trimness about her which marked theAlbatross.
"That's nothing but a dinghy with an engine in her," was the contemptuous remark of Widdy, as he relighted his short pipe, which was assuming a black hue, like unto the one he had smashed on deck.
"Well, we'll go aboard," decided Dick. "I want to hear what Mr. Blake has to say."
A few minutes later he and the old salt were ascending the accommodation ladder of thePrincess. They were met by a sailor in uniform.
"You'll find him below," he said to Dick,without being asked any questions, and he motioned to an after companionway. Dick started down. Had he but known it the young millionaire was entering the trap set for him.
Followed by Widdy, the wealthy lad groped his way along a rather dark passage. He expected every minute to be greeted by Mr. Blake, or to hear the lawyer's voice bidding him welcome. Dick was a little surprised that the attorney had not been out on deck, for the atmosphere below was anything but refreshing, indicating that thePrincesswas none too well ventilated.
"This way, if you please," spoke a voice, and Dick had a glimpse of a big man, attired in a sailor's suit, holding open a cabin door for him. The lad, suspecting nothing, was about to enter, but at that moment there came from Widdy, the old salt who was directly behind him, a snarl not unlike that of the bulldog Grit, at a sight of Uncle Ezra Larabee.
"Oh, ho! It's you, my fine swab, is it?" cried Widdy, pushing his way past Dick, and confronting the big sailor. "It's you, is it, an' up to some of your knavish tricks, I'll be bound! Let me get hold of you, Jake Shrouder, and I'll pay back some of the scores I owe you! Split my leescuppers! I didn't think to find you here! I made sure you was in jail, if Davy Jones hadn't claimed you! Look out, Mr. Dick!"
And with that Widdy, stumping forward on his wooden leg, made a dive for the husky sailor, like a man making a tackle on the football field. As for Shrouder, if that was his name, he seemed to turn pale under his bronzed skin.
"Widdy! You here!" he gasped, and leaped back, as if to shut himself in the cabin he had invited Dick to enter.
"Yes, I'm here! What thieving trick are you up to now? Is it to scuttle the ship, or shanghai somebody? Wait until I get hold of you, with a belayin' pin in the other hand, an'——"
But Shrouder gave Widdy no chance to reach him. With a muttered imprecation, he slammed the door shut in the face of the old sailor. Nothing daunted, Widdy threw himself against it, using his artificial leg as a battering ram. There was a splintering of wood, and, as the broken door flew back, Dick saw the large man running through the cabin toward another portal, which he frantically unlocked.
"What's the matter? What's up?" demanded the young millionaire, anxiously. "What's wrong, Widdy?"
"Everything, Mr. Dick. Look out for yourself. There's bad business afoot here, or Jake Shrouder would never be on hand. But I'll get him!"
He stumped forward, swinging his powerful arms to and fro, as if eager to clasp his enemy in them, but he stumbled, and would have fallen inside the cabin with the broken door, had not Dick caught him. At the same time the fleeing man called out:
"The jig's up! Widdy's here!"
"Who's Widdy?" asked a man's voice, and it was followed by confused shouts.
"Never mind. The jig's up, I tell you! Better get ashore. Cast off the boat!" yelled the big sailor.
There was the tramp of rapid footsteps on deck. Then came a sound as of something being dragged along—a scraping of wood on wood.
"Quick!" cried the old sailor to Dick. "They're trying to shut the hatches on us. We must get on deck!"
Puzzled and alarmed—not knowing what to make of the strange actions of Widdy, yet vaguely fearing, the lad turned from the cabin, and hastened toward the companionway down which he had come. As he sprang up it he saw the young sailor who had told him to go below shoving the hatch cover over.
"Quit that!" cried Dick. With a quick motion he caught up a coil of rope that had dropped on the steps, and thrust this into the crack as the man pushed the cover forward. This prevented it from being closed.
WITH A QUICK MOTION HE CAUGHT UP A COIL OF ROPE
WITH A QUICK MOTION HE CAUGHT UP A COIL OF ROPE,AND THRUST THIS INTO THE CRACK.—Page 67.
Dick Hamilton's Steam Yacht.
A moment later Widdy was at Dick's side. Theold sailor thrust his gnarled hands into the crack, and, with a wrench, sent the companionway cover sliding back.
"Hop out!" he called to Dick. "I'll follow."
As the lad reached the deck he saw, disappearing over the side, the young sailor, and the big one whom Widdy had called Shrouder. They seemed to be descending into some boat. Dick rushed to the rail. In a small barge were two men, and it needed but a glance to disclose to the young millionaire that they were the same two who had stared at him so persistently the day before, and though Dick did not then know it, they were the same pair who had followed him in the taxicab. Shrouder and the other sailor dropped into the barge with them.
"Grab him, Mr. Dick! Grab him!" cried Widdy, as he saw his old enemy escaping, but Dick did not think it wise to attempt to hold back the desperate men. A few seconds later the four were pulling away from thePrincessfor dear life.
"Well," remarked Dick, drawing a long breath, as though he had just taken part in a desperate race, "what's this all about, Widdy?"
"About? It's about villainy, that's what it's about, Mr. Dick! Villainy, and scheming, and black tricks and underhand work and shanghai-games, and looting and scuttling ships and anything else that's bad—that's what it is," growled the old seaman, as he stumped to the side, andshook his fist at the craft containing the four men. Then he filled his pipe, and began to smoke more calmly.
"We could chase them in the motorboat," suggested Dick, hardly yet understanding what it was all about.
"What's the use? Shrouder is as slippery as a greased sheet in a hail storm. Let him go—he won't sleep any the easier to-night from having met me. But I wish I could have laid my hooks on him," and Widdy opened and shut his gnarled hands suggestively.
"But I don't understand," said the lad. "Where is Mr. Blake? Why should those fellows disappear so suddenly? I was to meet the lawyer here, and look over this boat——"
"Mr. Blake never came here," said Widdy, bluntly. "It's a plant—a game—to get you on board. I'll wager that note sent to your hotel was forged."
"But why should they want to get me here?"
"To rob you, most likely. They know you're rich."
"Then that must have been why those two men paid such close attention to me," decided Dick.
"Of course," agreed the old sailor. "As soon as I clapped eyes on Jake Shrouder I knew there was something crooked afoot. I've known him for years—sailed all over in ships with him—and I never knew a piece of black business afoot anywhere near him that he didn't have his finger in.I knew there was something wrong as soon as I see him, and that's why I made a jump for him, but he was too quick for me."
"But who does this yacht belong to?" asked Dick. "We seem to be all alone on it."
"I hope we are. I don't want to have anything to do with those fellows. I don't know who owns the craft. Like as not Shrouder has an interest in her. But let's get ashore, and then we'll call on Mr. Blake and let him know what's in the wind. It was all a plant, I tell you, to get you aboard, and then they'd have robbed you."
"But I don't carry much money with me," objected Dick.
"No matter. They'd have found some way to get it out of you, or your father. But, come on, let's leave this bilge-water craft. Phew! It hasn't been swabbed out in a month of Sundays."
Stumping to the opposite side of the deck Widdy signaled to the motor launch at the dock, the owner of it having agreed to come off and take Dick and the sailor whenever they waved a flag. In a few minutes the two were speeding down-town toward the lawyer's office, their questioning of the captain of the launch having resulted in nothing. He had no knowledge concerning thePrincess, or the men on her.
As Widdy had surmised, the note purporting to come from Mr. Blake was a bald forgery, but, since Dick had never seen the attorney's writing, it was easy enough to deceive him.
"But what was their object?" asked the young millionaire.
"Robbery," decided Mr. Blake.
"But how did they know of my plans to buy a yacht?"
"Oh, easily enough. Talk travels quickly in marine circles in New York, and I fancy you are more of a public character than you imagine. At any rate, the men, whoever they are, knew something of your plans, and took advantage of them to lure you to the yacht, which they either hired for the purpose, or perhaps own. It was a clever trick, and it was lucky Widdy recognized that man in time, or you might have been locked in a cabin, and kept there until they had what they wanted out of you."
"I'm glad I took my sailor friend along," said Dick. "But how about theAlbatross? Am I likely to get her?"
"I think so. I will have her examined in a few days, and, if she passes inspection, I will complete the purchase, and you can arrange about a captain and crew. Perhaps your old sailor can help you out there."
"That's a good idea. I'll ask him."
It was decided that little good could be accomplished by notifying the police of the attempt to work harm to Dick, and so no report was made of it, for our hero disliked the newspaper sensationalism he knew would follow. Only Mr. Blakewarned the young millionaire to be careful of where he went, and in what company he lingered.
A week passed, during which Dick enjoyed himself in New York. The steam yacht proved to be all that was claimed for her, and the purchase was completed.
"You are now the owner of theAlbatross," said the lawyer to Dick, one morning, handing him several papers.
"That's great! Now to get a captain, a crew, put coal and provisions aboard, and set sail."
"For what port?"
"I'm going to Cuba, partly on business and partly for pleasure. Some of my school chums are going along, and we'll have a good time. And that reminds me of something. There's a friend of mine in New York, whom I'd like to have go along with me. He's Tim Muldoon, a former newsboy."
"A newsboy?" and Mr. Blake looked surprised.
"Yes, and one of the truest characters who ever sold a paper. I must look him up. He's good fun, and will enjoy the trip."
Two days later, the legal formalities all being completed, Dick engaged the services of Captain Amos Barton, a grizzled veteran of the seas, to command theAlbatross, and then the young millionaire returned to Hamilton Corners.
Captain Barton had agreed to select a small, but competent crew, and he would also see to putting the yacht in commission. She would be ready tosail within a week, he stated, and all Dick would have to do would be to name the port for which he wished the graceful prow pointed.
He consulted his father on this point, and Mr. Hamilton on looking over his papers learned that the Valdez family formerly lived in Santiago or Havana, though his lawyers had been unable to get a trace of them at either place.
"But you might go to Santiago, and then to Havana," suggested Mr. Hamilton. "You'll have to do some detective work, I fancy. But look out for those men who tried to trap you."
"Oh, I'll soon be far enough away from them, dad. I'm not worrying. Besides, they won't try to board us with Widdy on guard. He's a great character!"
"So I imagine. Well, good luck to you. Do your best, and use your own judgment. You'll have to depend on yourself from now on. Have you arranged for your friends to accompany you?"
"Not completely yet, but I will soon."
There were many busy days for Dick, following his purchase of theAlbatross. He received word from Captain Barton that the coaling and provisioning of the craft were proceeding satisfactorily, and that a good crew had been signed.
Dick had invited Tim Muldoon to go on the trip, and the newsboy agreed, after arranging with a younger brother to look after his business. Henry Darby also planned to accompany the young millionaire, a clerk in Mr. Hamilton's office agreeing to have an eye to the old iron business. Bricktop Norton was to drive the horse and collect scrap for Henry.
Dick invited a number of his military academy chums to make the cruise with him, but he received several letters of regret, the lads stating that vacation plans, previously made by their parents, would not permit them to accept the young millionaire's hospitality. Paul Drew was to go and Captain Innis Beeby, the cadet commander of Company C, wrote that he might meet Dick inSavannah, Georgia, if the yacht would stop there on the way to Cuba.
"Of course, we'll stop for Beeby," said Dick to Paul Drew, who had arrived at Hamilton Corners a few days before the date set for the departure for New York.
"Yes, Beeby's good fun. We'll have a swell time on this trip, Dick."
"I hope so. I want the fellows to enjoy themselves."
Uncle Ezra paid another visit to Dick's house, though it must have cost him a pang to part with the money for a railroad ticket. He said he had come to make one more appeal to Dick's father, not to allow the youth to squander his fortune on a yacht.
"It's too late, Uncle Ezra," exclaimed Dick, gaily. "I've bought the yacht, and we shall sail in a few days."
"Well, of all the senseless, wasteful proceedings—But there, I'm done expostulating—I'm—I'm going to——"
But the churlish old man stopped short, and closed his thin lips like a steel trap. There was a dangerous, crafty look in his eyes, which boded Dick no good, but the young millionaire did not see it.
The night before the wealthy lad and his friends were to leave for the metropolis, there to go aboard the yacht, in company with Tim Muldoon, Dick found he had to go down-town to send sometelegrams, one to Captain Barton and another to the lawyer, Mr. Blake. Paul Drew, who, with Frank Bender and Henry Darby, was at Dick's house, volunteered to accompany him, but our hero said he would run down with Grit, and hurry back, leaving his friends to amuse themselves.
It was rather a dark night, with a promise of a storm, and when the wealthy lad started out he wished that he had not gotten a puncture in his auto tire that day, so that he might have used the car. But he had not had the tube repaired, and the machine was out of commission.
"But we don't mind the walk, do we, Grit?" asked the lad, and the dog whined an answer.
The messages sent, Dick started back home, hurrying along, for the first few drops of rain were falling, and indicated a heavy storm to come. The wind was blowing hard, and, after an effort to keep his umbrella right side out, Dick gave it up, furled the rain-shield, and tramped on through the drizzle, with Grit splashing at his heels.
As the young millionaire turned the corner of a dark street, before emerging into the thoroughfare that led to his house, he collided full tilt into a man who suddenly seemed to jump from behind a tree.
"I beg your——" began Dick, contritely, though it was not his fault.
The next instant, and before the youth had a chance to finish his apology, he felt himself seizedfrom behind by a second man, while the one who had leaped out in front of him placed his hand over his mouth. Dick felt himself being borne backward. He struggled to maintain his footing, and struck out blindly.
He felt his fists land on soft bodies, and once an exclamation of pain escaped his assailants.
"We've got him!" a voice whispered. "Where's the rig?"
Dick partly squirmed loose, and wrenched the man's hand from over his mouth.
"Take 'em, Grit!" he cried, and there was a rush of feet, while a savage growl told Dick that his faithful dog, who had lingered somewhat behind, was about to attack the footpads.
The unequal fight continued, the unknown men seeking to overpower Dick, while he, on his part, made a desperate attempt to break the hold of the scoundrels who held him. He was engaged in a losing game until the arrival of his dog, when the tide of battle suddenly turned in his favor.
Grit seized a man's leg in his jaws, and bit savagely. There was a howl of pain, and the intelligent animal, well knowing that Dick had two foes to deal with, did not hold his grip. Instead, after making his teeth felt, he let go, and made a dive for the legs of the other fellow.
"Shoot the brute, Sam!" yelled the second man as he felt himself attacked by Grit. "Blow his head off! He's biting me!"
"He's bit me, too!" exclaimed the other, faintly, and he loosed his hold on Dick to make a grab for his injured leg.
"Let go, you beast!" yelled the man to whom Grit was still clinging. The man endeavored to kick the bulldog loose, but the intelligent animalknew his business. He let go, to avoid a savage kick, and made a spring for the rascal's throat. This was too much for the footpad. He quickly thrust the young millionaire from him and staggered away, breaking into a run a moment later, and calling to his companion:
"Come on! I've had plenty!"
The other was glad enough to follow. Dick stumbled and fell, when the men released their hold, but recovered his balance after an effort. Grit, snarling and growling, started down the dark road after the men, splashing through muddy puddles.
"Here, Grit! Come back!" yelled Dick. He did not want his pet shot, and he had no doubt but that the desperate characters would use their weapons on the valuable animal.
Breathing hard from his struggle the lad darted forward. The cool rain soon revived him sufficiently, so that his strength, which had been well-nigh spent in the contest, came back to him, and he was racing with all his speed through the storm and darkness. He wanted to see who the men were—to fathom the reason for their attack on him.
"Here, Grit! Grit!" he called. "Come back!"
The dog barked a protest, for he wanted to finish the work he had begun.
"Come back, Grit!" cried Dick again, and the dog knew there was no disobeying that voice. With a menacing growl he turned and leaped joyouslyabout his young master, now and then glancing in the direction which the men had taken, and sending a challenging bark toward them in the darkness.
"No use chasing them," murmured Dick, as he bent over to pat Grit, and felt to see if the dog had been injured. There seemed to be no cuts on him. The animal had been too quick for the men.
As for the youth he had been roughly handled, and his neck and arms were strained and bruised, while his clothing was disarranged. But he had suffered no harm, and a hasty search through his pockets convinced him that neither his watch nor money had been taken.
"Well, that's the first time hold-up men ever tackled me," murmured the young millionaire, as he walked back to the scene of the struggle, and picked up his umbrella. "I didn't know members of that profession cared to come to Hamilton Corners. I guess I'd better notify the police. It might be dangerous for other people, to have such scoundrels about."
Keeping a sharp lookout, lest the men return, but feeling pretty sure that they had had enough, Dick turned into a better-lighted street, and, going to the house of an acquaintance nearby, he called up the police station, and reported through the telephone his experience.
There was much wondering and excitement at headquarters, and the chief promised to sendseveral officers to the scene of the outrage at once. Dick met them, but the search that resulted amounted to nothing. The men had disappeared, and even in daylight to hunt for them would have been difficult, to say nothing of a chase in the storm and darkness. The chief promised to have his men keep their eyes open the rest of that night, and the next day, for any suspicious characters, but none was seen.
Dick's friends, from whose house he had telephoned, wanted to hitch up the horse and drive him home, but he said he was so wet that a little more water would not hurt him.
Accordingly he walked, one of the few policemen of Hamilton Corners insisting on accompanying the lad. Dick said it wasn't necessary, as long as he had Grit with him, but the chief of police was taking no chances with the millionaire's son.
Of course, there was plenty of excitement when Dick reached his father's house, and told Mr. Hamilton, and the boys there, what had detained him.
"You certainly had a narrow escape!" said Mr. Hamilton, seriously. "Do you think they meant to rob you, Dick?"
"What else would they have attacked me for? Of course, it must have been that. But Grit and I were too quick for them."
"Could you see their faces?" asked Paul Drew.
"No, it was too dark."
"Then, you couldn't tell whether or not they were the same men you met before in New York, and who got you on board their yacht?" asked Henry Darby, for the wealthy youth had told of his experience on thePrincess.
"No—I don't believe they were the same fellows," replied Dick, slowly. "They were ordinary highwaymen," but, though he said nothing about it, he was puzzled over a remark one of the men had made while holding him. It was when the footpad said:
"We've got him! Where's the rig?"
"Rig—that is, horse and carriage," murmured Dick to himself. "I wonder why highwaymen wanted a rig? Unless," he added slowly, "they had an idea of carrying me off. But that's nonsense. Maybe I misunderstood them." But the more he thought about it and puzzled over it, the more it worried him, until he put the matter out of his mind and devoted his time to getting ready for the yachting trip.
No further trace was found of the footpads next day, and, though the Hamilton Corners police made inquiries in nearby towns, no suspicious characters were reported as being about.
Mr. Hamilton was worried, and considered a scheme of having a private detective guard his son, for he knew that many unscrupulous scoundrels had designs on wealthy lads. But Dick called the plan off.
"I'll soon be at sea, dad," he said, "and I guesswith Grit on board, and the fellows I'm going to take along we can stand off a small army of hold-up men."
"All right," agreed the millionaire, "but I'll feel easier when you are out of sight of land."
Dick had a telegram from Captain Barton, saying that theAlbatrosswas only waiting the command to hoist anchor and start, and on the receipt of this the lad decided they would leave for New York the next day, as he had been delayed getting his outfit together, and Henry Darby wanted to close an important transaction in old iron before he went away.
As Dick, Frank Bender, Paul Drew and Henry Darby were being driven down to the depot in Dick's auto, to take a train for the metropolis, two lads, standing on a street corner, observed the happy quartette.
"There they go," observed Guy Fletcher, a town lad whose father was quite well off. "There they go, and I wish I was going off on a trip like that myself."
"Not with Dick Hamilton," added Simon Scardale, who was Guy's crony. The two lads had no friendly feelings toward the young millionaire, and, indeed, Simon had once tried to make Dick lose considerable money. "Dick Hamilton hasn't much use for us, nor we for him, Guy. I wouldn't care if his yacht sunk at sea."
"I don't know's I would, either, though Iwouldn't want any one to get drowned. But, come on, and I'll shoot you a game of pool."
"Can't. I'm dead broke."
"I'll pay for it," offered Guy, as Dick's auto swung around a corner and as the two lads, who were rather inclined to a "sporty" life, turned to seek a pool "parlor," they were confronted by an elderly man, with a small tuft of white whiskers on his chin, which moved up and down as he talked.
"Was that Dick Hamilton who just passed?" asked the old man.
"Sure," replied Simon, flippantly. "Do you know him?"
"I guess I ought to, I'm his uncle," was the answer. "But I couldn't see very good, 'cause the sun was in my eyes. Now, didn't I hear you say you didn't care whether or not his yacht sunk."
"Oh, we were only fooling," spoke Guy, with an uneasy laugh, thinking he was to be called to account for the remark.
"Oh, you needn't worry," returned Ezra Larabee, quickly. "I just happened to hear what you said, and it occurred to me that perhaps you two lads, who, I believe, are acquainted with my nephew, would like to earn a little money easily. Would you?"
"Would we? Well, I should lose a gold tooth if we wouldn't, old sport!" exclaimed Simon, slangily. "What's the game?"
"Suppose you come with me," answered Mr. Larabee, and he looked around hastily to see if he was observed before leading the two ill-favored lads down a quiet street.
Meanwhile, Dick and his friends continued on in the auto. They stopped at the bank where Mr. Hamilton had his private office, to say good-by, and half an hour later were speeding toward New York in a fast express. Grit was in the baggage car, but he cried and whined so mournfully, because he was out of Dick's sight, that his master had to go forward from the parlor coach to pay frequent visits to his pet.
Arriving at the big city, the young millionaire piloted his friends to the same hotel where he had stopped before, and they were assigned to a suite of connecting rooms. Dick then sent for Tim Muldoon, the newsboy, who shortly appeared, resplendent in a new suit, and looking quite different than when he first came under his friend's notice, as a ragged "fresh-air kid."
The young owner of theAlbatrosshad sent word to Captain Barton that he was in town, and would shortly come aboard, and Dick asked that the yacht be in readiness for putting to sea at once.
"Now," said our hero to his friends at the hotel, "I have to go see Mr. Blake, the lawyer, and then I guess I'm done with business for a while. I want to ask his advice about locating those Cuban relatives of my mother."
"Guess I'd better go along with you," suggested Tim. "You might be held up again, and I know almost every detective in New York. I could signal to one in a jiffy for you, and we'd have bully fun arrestin' the fellows. It'd make a corkin' story. Shall I come?"
"Oh, it's hardly necessary," objected the rich youth, but Tim insisted on it, and went with his friend in the taxicab.
However, nothing happened, and after stating the case about the missing relatives to the lawyer, and listening to Mr. Blake's advice, Dick put in his pocket a letter the attorney had given him. It was addressed to Don Ferdinand Hondora, a Havana lawyer.
"He will give you any assistance in his power, in locating the Valdez family," said Mr. Blake, as he bade his young client good-by.
"Now, then, for theAlbatross!" cried Dick, as he returned to the hotel and greeted his chums.
But there was still a delay, for every one wanted to purchase several articles, forgotten in the departing rush, and this required visits to a number of stores. But finally, with their trunks and suit-cases well packed, the crowd of happy lads entered a big auto which Dick hired, and were soon at the dock, where they took a motorboat out to Dick's steam yacht.
"Welcome on board!" cried Captain Barton, cordially, as the youthful millionaire and his party mounted the accommodation ladder, whilethe blue flag at the masthead fluttered down, indicating the presence on the yacht of the boat's owner. "We're all ready and waiting for you, and the tide is just on the turn." Grit had already leaped on deck, and, at a word from his master, made friends with the commander.
"Is Widdy here?" asked Dick, looking about for a sight of the old seaman.
"He is," replied Captain Barton, "and I've made him honorary second mate, at your suggestion."
"Oh, yes; there he is," cried Dick, waving his hand toward the grizzled sea dog, who stumped about near the ship's bell, as proud as the proverbial peacock to be thus recognized by the millionaire skipper.
"Now, fellows, make yourselves right to home," invited their host. "We're going to live here quite a while, and I hope you find everything comfortable."
"If we don't it'll be our fault," observed Tim Muldoon, looking about with awe, for the yacht was handsomely fitted up.
"What's the matter, Henry?" asked Dick, noting the young iron merchant staring about him, in rather a dazed fashion.
"Oh, I was just wondering how much old scrap iron I'd have to sell to buy a boat like this," was the answer, and Dick laughed.
The anchor was hoisted to the musical clank-clank of the winches. The accommodation ladderwas slung up alongside, and with a hoarse blast from her whistle theAlbatrossslowly swung around with the outgoing tide. From her funnel there poured black smoke, and from the steam pipe there spouted a jet of white vapor. Under her stern the water was churned to foam, and a white "bone" appeared at her sharp bow.
"We're off!" cried the young captain, gaily.
"Three cheers for Skipper Hamilton and his steam yacht!" yelled Paul Drew.
"Cut it out!" ordered Dick, turning red. "You can cheer the boat, but not me."
But his companions did not heed, and sent out their ringing cries. Commanders on other vessels nearby heard, and, thinking a gay party was starting off on a cruise, saluted theAlbatrosswith the regulation three blasts of their whistles, to which Captain Barton responded, so that the progress down the bay was somewhat in the nature of an ovation, as other craft, following suit, also rendered homage.
Down through the Narrows steamed the fine yacht, gathering speed; out past Forts Wadsworth and Lafayette, threading her way along the buoyed channel, passing Coney Island on the left, swinging out more to sea as Atlantic Highlands was sighted, and then, pushing across the nose of Sandy Hook, theAlbatrossflew on toward the deep ocean.
"We're off!" cried Dick again, as he leanedover the rail and watched the blue water. "Off for Cuba, and all sorts of adventures, fellows."
There were more adventures in store for the young millionaire and his chums than they ever imagined.