"What liquor? I don't drink liquor."
"You might as well own up. Captain Chinks and you were a little boozy that day."
"What day?"
"Why, that day you sailed this boat up the bay."
"I didn't drink a drop," protested Ben, warmly.
"Then your uncle drank enough for both of you."
"No, he didn't, nuther. I didn't see him drink anything."
"Ah, it's no use to deny it," laughed Mr. Hines, as though he was only indulging in a pleasantry.
"I wouldn't deny it if it was true; but it ain't."
"How did the boat get adrift, then?" queried Mr. Hines. "Both of you must have been a little set up."
"Not a bit."
"The boat wouldn't have got adrift if you had either of you been all right."
"Both of us were as straight as a gun."
"How did it happen, then?"
"It was blowing like Sam Hill, that day,you see—didn't Captain Chinks tell you about it?"
"He didn't say you were both sober."
"Well, I was; and if he drank anything that day, I didn't see him do it,' persisted Ben.
"But what in the world did you want to land your stuff in that place for?"
"What place? What stuff?" demanded Ben.
"Those cases of brandy, of course. It's all right, my man. Captain Chinks will be down here to-morrow. Little Bobtail here picked up the yacht, and took her into Camden. The stuff was all landed in the night, so that only two or three persons know anything about it—Little Bobtail, myself, and a friend of mine."
"Who is he?"
"He's a friend of mine. We were on the lookout for this lot of brandy, and we took it off Captain Chinks's hands, so that he won't have any trouble in getting rid of it."
"Is that so? Who's the other man?"
"We don't call names in this business, you know," answered the detective, mysteriously. "But I can't see what you wanted to land the stuff in that place for. You would have beentrapped if you had; for there is a sharp detective over at Camden, looking out for cases of this sort."
"Sho! Who is he?"
"His name's Hines."
"Hines? I never heard on him before."
"He's sharp."
Bobtail had to look overboard to keep from laughing.
"Ketch a weasel asleep!" grinned Ben. "Me'n my uncle's sharp enough to whittle skewers with him. When he ketches Cap'n Chinks, he'll ketch a weasel asleep, you bet! It was the cap'n's notion to land the stuff on that island, and take it over, a little at a time, when we went out fishing. We run the boat aground on a beach. You see, I found a hole in the rocks—a kind of cave—that would hold the hull lot on't. We could kiver up the mouth of the hole with rocks, so't no one'd ever think anything was in it. The boat was on so hard we couldn't stir her, and we went up to take a look at the hole. While we were gone, the tide riz, and the wind blowed the boat off. The cap'n did some tall swearin' about that time, you'd better believe;but it didn't do no good. The boat was gone, and we couldn't git her. It was just dark, and I cal'lated the wind would drive her on the rocks, and smash her all to pieces. It was lucky Bob picked her up, for she might 'a been found by some feller who'd made mischief out of that stuff in the cabin."
Bobtail had to tell the story of the picking up of the Skylark.
"She must have drifted up the bay, and then down, for the tide turned not long after we lost her," said Ben. "We walked up to Islesboro', but we didn't dare to say a word. The cap'n went over to Camden in the packet, and I came down here. I took our boat here, and with a man to help me, cruised all round Deer Island and Vinal Haven, to see if I could find the Skylark; but I couldn't hear nothin' on her."
"What did the captain give for this boat?" asked Mr. Hines.
"Five hundred dollars."
"Didn't pay for her—did he?"
"Yes, he did; cash down. The man he bought her of 's up at one of the hotels now."
"Is he?"
"Yes, he is;" and Ben described the house.
"If he has any more such boats to sell, I should like to buy one like this at the same price. But when are you going out again?"
"Out where?"
"O, I understand all about this business; you needn't roll your eyes at me," laughed the detective. "I know all about it; and when Captain Chinks runs in another lot of brandy, I intend to take it off his hands, if he isn't too sharp; and I want to know when to be on the lookout for it."
"O, you do?" grinned Ben.
"When do you go?"
"I donno; you must ask the cap'n. When he gets a letter he will be off."
The conversation was continued till it was quite dark, and then Ben went back to his boat. Little Bobtail laughed till his sides ached at the tactics of Mr. Hines, as they walked up to the hotel, or boarding-house, where the late owner of the Skylark lodged.
Mr. Hines and Little Bobtail walked up to the hotel. The former had possessed himself of sufficient evidence to convict Captain Chinks of smuggling, and also of intense stupidity in employing a simpleton like Ben Chinks in such a dangerous business, though rogues and villains almost always leave a screw loose somewhere.
"We shall make a good case of it, Bobtail," said Mr. Hines.
"I could hardly keep from laughing while you were pumping Ben Chinks," replied the skipper. "The idea of your taking the stuff off Captain Chinks's hands!"
"I did take it off his hands, and he will have no trouble now in getting rid of it."
"I wouldn't have said anything if I had been Ben."
"Very likely you would, Bobtail; for with all the information I have obtained from you, and from other sources, I spoke by the book, and he had every reason to suppose I was in the captain's confidence."
"But do you really think Captain Chinks will come down here?" asked Bobtail.
"I am almost sure of it."
"I should stay away, if I were him."
"He must come to unsnarl the tangle he has made here," replied the detective. "He must have been more astonished and disconcerted when Squire Gilfilian showed him the bill he had paid for the boat, than any one else was. Very likely he will have another explanation to make to show how he came by it, and he may trace it back to you in some way. But we will keep an eye on him."
At the hotel they met Mr. Brooks, but the gentleman who had sold the Skylark, being in feeble health, had retired early. Nothing could be done, and Bobtail returned to the yacht, while his passengers took rooms at the hotel, and slept like a rock till morning, for he had worked hard all day. At sunrise the next morning he was on hisfeet again. The Darwinian had more talent for sleeping than the skipper of the Skylark, and did not turn out till half an hour later. Bobtail had scarcely shown himself on deck before Ben Chinks pulled to the yacht.
"Say, Bob, who is that man with you?" asked he.
"You must ask him who he is?"
"Don't you know?"
"I never saw him till a few days ago. In his kind of business, he don't always tell who he is. No doubt he will tell you before night who he is. What have you been doing down here so long?" asked the skipper, wishing to divert the conversation into some other channel.
"I have made a pile of money taking out parties to sail, while I'm waiting."
"What are you waiting for?"
"Waiting for the old man. Didn't he tell you?"
"No; he didn't say much to me."
"What did he give you for picking up the boat?"
"He hasn't given me anything yet," replied Bobtail. "How much do you charge a day for your boat and two hands?"
"Five dollars."
"I've taken some parties out in the boat, and I have been charging seven and eight dollars a day."
"That's a better boat than the Eagle. If I had her I should charge eight dollars a day. But how did you get that stuff out of the Skylark?"
"I ran over in the night, and landed it between one and two o'clock in the morning, when no one was stirring in our part of the town. I hid it away in the attic, and this man took it away in the night," replied Bobtail, confining himself strictly to the facts, though of course he was no less guilty of deception than if he had told a number of square lies, except that the deception was in the interest of justice.
"It was lucky for the old man that you picked that boat up; but he's mean if he don't give you something handsome," added Ben.
"I have had the use of the boat ever since I picked her up."
"Well, that's somethin'. There comes Monkey. Does he know anything about this business?" whispered Ben.
"Not a thing."
This was a sufficient reason for saying nothing more about it, and Ben soon returned to the Eagle. After breakfast, Bobtail went up to the hotel, where his passengers lodged. In the course of the forenoon, the deputy sheriff "interviewed" Mr. Gordon, the gentleman who had sold the Skylark. He was sure he could identify the man who had paid him the five hundred dollar bill. When the steamer from Portland, which touches at Rockland, arrived, almost everybody went down to the wharf, Mr. Gordon among the number.
"If you see the man who paid you the bill, point him out, if you please, but don't say anything about it," said Mr. Brooks, as the gang plank of the steamer was run out.
"There he is!" exclaimed Mr. Gordon, as Captain Chinks walked from the boat to the wharf.
The deputy sheriff and Mr. Hines kept out of sight. Bobtail had been sent away in the Skylark, that she might not attract the attention of the smuggler, and was standing off and on a mile or more from the shore.
As soon as Captain Chinks landed, he was greeted by Ben, his nephew, who was doubtless glad to see him.
"I s'pose you are tired of waiting—ain't you, Ben?" asked the captain, who wore a troubled expression.
"Not a bit on't. I've been makin' five dollars a day, right along, takin' parties out to sail," replied Ben, with a cheerful grin; "but I had to pay a boy half a dollar a day to help me."
"That's pretty well."
"Why didn't you come down afore?"
"Because I didn't hear anything from St. John; and things are a little mixed up to Camden."
"Mixed! Why, I thought everything had come out fust rate. You got the Skylark and the stuff back as slick as a whistle."
"Who told you so?" demanded the captain, with a startled look.
"Why, Little Bobtail. He's here in the Skylark, and said you sent him."
Bobtail certainly had not said any such thing. Ben had inferred it from what Mr. Hines had stated. It was not prudent to talk of these matters in the midst of so many people, and the captain and his nephew hastened on board of the Eagle.
"I didn't send him," said Captain Chinks, very much perplexed.
"You didn't?"
"No; the young villain picked up the boat, but I couldn't do anything with him."
"Sho!" exclaimed Ben, who began to be worried himself. "Bobtail's here, and that other man with him."
"What other man!" demanded the captain, savagely.
"That man that took the stuff off your hands."
"What stuff!"
"Why, the liquor that was in the Skylark."
"What do you mean, Ben?"
"Didn't Bob pick up the Skylark and land the stuff in the night; and didn't you sell it to that other man? and didn't he move it out of Bob's house in the night?"
"No!" roared Captain Chinks.
"That's what they said, anyhow," added Ben, stoutly.
"Who said so?"
"Why, the man that took the stuff off your hands."
"Who is he?"
"Well, don't you know?"
"No, I don't," gasped Captain Chinks.
"I'm sure I don't, then. He wouldn't tell me his name. He came down in the Skylark with Bobtail yesterday."
The gentleman with a doubtful reputation uttered an exceedingly hard and naughty expletive, and he did so with much emphasis. His face was very red, and his lips quivered with wrath.
"Have you been talking with any one about this business, Ben Chinks?" demanded the smuggler, shaking his clinched fist in the face of his nephew.
"I didn't tell him nothin'; he told me, and he said he took that stuff off your hands, and was goin' to have the next lot; he said you oughtn't to land the stuff on that island, and wanted to know how we happened to let the boat go adrift."
"And you told him?" gasped the captain.
"What was the use of my tellin' on him, when he knowed all about it? O, he said you and I had both been takin' too much. He was kind o' jokin', but I stuck to it that we was as sober as hewas. I did tell him how the boat got adrift; but he told me all the rest."
"Ben, you are a fool!"
"I tell you he knowed all about it," whined the nephew.
"You've made a pretty mess of it."
"I didn't do it. He knowed all about it afore, and I s'posed you told him."
"I told him nothing. I never said a word to him. Don't you know the man's name?"
"No, I don't. He wouldn't tell me, nor Bob nuther."
"Well, I know who he is," groaned Captain Chinks, pounding the trunk of the cabin with his fist, and grating his teeth with rage.
"Who is he?"
"He's a custom-house officer."
"Sho! you don't say so!" cried Ben, with horror, for he regarded a custom-house officer in about the same light that he did a hangman.
"You've told him all about it," added the Captain.
"I didn't tell him nothin'; he knowed it all before.'
"All we can do now is to get out of the way. Where is this man?"
"I don'no; I hain't seen him to-day. There's the Skylark," replied Ben, pointing to the yacht.
"Is he on board of her?"
"No."
"Are you sure of it?"
"Sartain, I am. I see Bobtail start off in her alone."
"We must get out of the way, but I don't know where to go to," groaned the captain. "I cal'late you've ruined me, Ben."
"I didn't do it," protested the nephew. "I keep a tellin' on you, he knowed all about it in the fust on't."
"Get up your fore'n mainsail. We must get out of this as quick as we can."
"You can't kerry the foresail. It blows like Sam Hill, and squally, too."
"Hist the mainsail then."
This sail was set, but the moment they began to hoist it, Mr. Hines made the signal agreed upon, by waving his handkerchief on the wharf, for the return of the Skylark. The steamer had gone, and most of the people had left the wharf by this time. Bobtail, who was on the lookout for the signal, saw it immediately, and headed the yachtfor the pier. As Ben Chinks had remarked, it blew hard, and the wind came in heavy flaws. The Skylark had a single reef in her mainsail, and the jib was furled, but even with this short canvas she flew like a bird.
"There goes the Eagle," shouted Monkey from the forecastle.
"Who's on board of her?" asked Bobtail.
"I reckon it's Captain Chinks; it looks like him."
The skipper looked at the boat through the spy-glass, and identified the captain.
"He's trying to get away," said he.
"What for?" asked Monkey, who was in blissful ignorance of the smuggling operation of the captain.
"You will soon know," replied Bobtail.
The Eagle, under jib and mainsail, was standing out of the harbor, and the Skylark had to pass her on her way to the wharf. Captain Chinks was at the helm himself, and at that moment, as he gazed at Little Bobtail, he was the maddest man on the waters of Maine. Both boats were going free, and when they were nearly abreast of each other, and not a hundred feet apart, the captain suddenly put up his helm, and the Eagle darted towards theSkylark, as if she shared the spite of her skipper, and as an eagle would pounce upon a skylark.
"Down with your helm!" shouted Bobtail, full of excitement, for the danger of a collision was imminent.
If the Skylark had held on her course, she would have been struck amidships by the bow of the Eagle; but Bobtail jammed his helm hard down, the result of which was to throw the yacht up into the wind, and bring her alongside the other craft. As it was, the Eagle's bow grated along the quarter of the Skylark. Bobtail supposed that Captain Chinks intended to board the yacht, and he instantly seized the spare tiller, which he always carried in the standing-room when it blew hard, and stood ready to "repel boarders." But the captain did not intend to capture the Skylark. Probably he intended to sink her; but his purposes were only known to himself. The sails of the Eagle were still full, and she continued on her course.
"Keep out of the way next time!" shouted Captain Chinks.
Bobtail made no reply, but filled away again, and in a few minutes was at the wharf. Mr. Hines and Mr. Brooks leaped on board.
"After him, Bobtail," cried the detective, earnestly, as he shoved off the bow of the boat.
"He has heard all about it from Ben, and is going to run away. Hurry up."
The Skylark was clear of the wharf, and coming about, was headed towards the Eagle.
"Is Captain Chinks's boat fast?" asked Mr. Hines.
"Yes, sir; but it blows too hard for her to-day. She don't carry sail worth a cent," replied Bobtail.
"How is it with the Skylark?"
"She is the ablest boat I know."
"Good! Then we have the advantage."
"Hoist the jib, Monkey," shouted the skipper.
"Are you sure she will carry it? It blows heavy outside, and the wind comes in flaws," added Mr. Hines.
"I know her like a book. She will carry her jib and mainsail to-day, but we have one reef in. The Eagle has two miles or more the start of us; but we will give her a sweat," said Bobtail.
"She is hoisting her foresail now."
"She will have to take it in again when she gets clear of the land."
With her jib set, the Skylark occasionally put her scuppers under, but she was as stiff as Mount Desert itself, and only heeled over just so far, under any flaw that came.
"I didn't think the captain would run for it so soon," said Mr. Hines. "He didn't even go to the hotel, where a letter is waiting for him. It has the St. John postmark upon it, and I know what that means without opening it."
"He tried to run me down," added Bobtail.
"I saw him do it. His game is nearly up. I intended to arrest him when he came down from the hotel, but he took the alarm from what Ben told him."
As the Eagle ran out from the land, it was evident that she could not long carry her foresail. It was taken in very soon, but she sailed faster without it than with it. The Skylark gained rapidly upon her. The water—Frenchman's Bay—was studded with islands, but Mr. Hines, who had taken the helm, was perfectly familiar with the navigation. As the race began to be a desperate one for Captain Chinks, he dodged in among the islands, tempting his pursuer to make short cuts over sunken ledges; but in all these expedients he failed. The Eagle was a keel boat, and drew morewater than the Skylark, so that wherever the former went the latter need not fear to follow. At last Captain Chinks appeared to have given up the race, and Mr. Hines surmised that he was running for a landing-place on one of the islands. But the Skylark was still gaining, and was now almost abreast of the Eagle.
"All ready, Mr. Brooks," said the detective, as the bowsprit of the sloop came up with the quarter of the schooner.
"I'm ready," replied the deputy sheriff, as he went forward to the bow of the yacht.
"Stand by the sheets, Bobtail, for I don't know what he will do next."
"Ay, ay, sir!" responded the skipper. "Have a fender ready, Monkey."
"All right."
In a moment more, the forecastle of the Skylark was abreast, on the weather side, of the Eagle, taking the wind out of her mainsail in part.
"Hard down," shouted Mr. Brooks, as he saw Captain Clunks jam down the helm of the schooner.
Both boats came up into the wind alongside each other, and Monkey was busy with his fender. The deputy sheriff leaped upon the deck of theEagle, and Mr. Hines, giving the helm to Bobtail, followed him. The skipper permitted the yacht to come about, and she went clear of the other boat.
"You are my prisoner, Captain Chinks," said Mr. Brooks.
"What for?" gasped the captain.
"For stealing that letter."
"I didn't steal it."
"That remains to be proved."
"We ain't in Knox County now."
"Never mind; I will take you for violating the revenue laws," added Mr. Hines, as he took the helm of the schooner.
"I hain't done nothing," protested Captain Chinks.
"We will go over to Camden, and settle that point some other time."
The captain was obliged to give it up, and he groaned in bitterness of spirit. To be charged with stealing the letter, and with violating the revenue laws at the same time, was more than he had anticipated. On the first, if convicted, he would be sentenced to imprisonment, and on the other, to pay a heavy fine. His crimes brought loss of liberty and loss of property.
Bobtail eased off his mainsheet, and waited for the Eagle to come up. Mr. Hines had already decided to return to Camden in Captain Chinks's boat, and when he had announced his purpose, the Skylark filled away again. It was now about noon, and as the wind was contrary for at least half the way back to Camden, the skipper hardly expected to reach his destination that night. The yacht very soon ran away from the schooner, and at six o'clock had made half the distance. She had come up with the point which forms the south-eastern point of the town of Brooklyn, where she started her sheets, and ran through the channel between Deer Island and Sedgwick.
The wind was still unsteady, coming in heavy flaws; but now it was beginning to haul more to the southward. This change was favorable, for it enabled the Skylark to lay her course for Camden. But an awful sea was rolling in from the ocean, and the yacht jumped like a galloping horse. The wind freshened into a gale with the change, and the gusts were more fitful and violent. The jib was taken in, and Monkey was thoroughly ducked in the operation, for the Skylark occasionally slapped the waves with her bowsprit. Great blackclouds were rolling up off to seaward, but Bobtail was confident that the yacht was equal to anything. Under the lee of an island, the mainsail was close-reefed; but she flew over the waves, and the skipper hoped to reach his destination by nine in the evening. At eight o'clock, while it was still light, he discovered a schooner working down the bay under jib and reefed mainsail which he recognized as the Penobscot.
"That's the Penobscot!" exclaimed Bobtail, as soon as he identified her.
"She is taking a nasty night to go to sea," added Monkey.
"She will put into Rockland or Camden. I suppose the colonel is in a hurry to get to Newport for some race. He told me yesterday he should sail to-day."
"She ain't going into Camden. If she was, she wouldn't be out there. She's right off the ledges, and if she don't tack soon, she'll be on 'em," said the Darwinian.
"I think she's going into Rockland. She can make it in one more stretch."
"She can get in behind Owl's Head, and lay as easy as if she was in a mill pond."
"That's an awful sea out there, Monkey,"said Bobtail. "See the breakers on that lower ledge. If I was the captain of the Penobscot, I should go in stays. There she goes!"
At this moment the sails of the large yacht shook, as her head came up to the wind. But the next instant she fell off, heeled over, and drove ahead again. Bobtail distinctly heard a shout from her, though she was a mile distant. He watched her with his heart in his mouth, and his worst fears were realized when he saw her lift her bow high up in the water. She had run upon the ledge.
"By gracious! she is on the rocks!" cried Bobtail, wild with excitement and anxiety.
"So she is!" gasped Monkey.
Then came a shriek in the tones of a woman's voice, whose piercing note was heard above the roaring of the billows.
"That's Mrs. Montague," said Bobtail. "Get your warp-line out, Monkey. We have got something to do to-night."
The Skylark flew on her mission of rescue, and her skipper watched the Penobscot with intense interest. Her bow rose and fell at every sea, and it was evident that she was crashingher timbers at every motion. In five minutes from the time she struck, the smaller yacht came up with her. She had gone upon the last ledge of the series that extends to the southward from Islesboro'. Bobtail ran to the west of the ledges, and, going entirely round to avoid gybing, he came up into the wind close under the stern of the Penobscot. He heard her planks and timbers grinding on the rocks. Monkey heaved the warp-line, which was caught by the sailors on board of the wreck. The mainsail of the Skylark was lowered.
By this time, though the waves still beat over the bow of the Penobscot, she ceased to grind upon the rocks. The tide was going out, and less of the weight of the vessel was supported by the water, and as the volume of the waves diminished, their power lessened. In two or three hours the yacht would be high and dry. She had gone upon the ledge in a direction diagonal with the wind, so that under one of her quarters the water was comparatively smooth. Bobtail and Monkey heaved on the warp-line till they brought the Skylark alongside this lee quarter.
"No time to lose, sir!" shouted Bobtail to Colonel Montague, who was supporting his wife and daughter on deck, for the cabin was flooded with water. "I shall be aground in half an hour."
"Can your boat weather this blow?" asked the colonel, anxiously.
"Yes, sir; she can stand anything that any boat can."
Mrs. Montague and Grace were assisted on board of the Skylark, which, even in this sheltered place, rolled, pitched, and tugged furiously at the warp-line. The colonel and another gentleman, whom Bobtail had not seen before, helped old Mr. Montague down to the rail of the Penobscot.
"You go first, Tom, and help him down," said Colonel Montague.
The sailing master of the Penobscot also took the old gentleman's arm. The Hon. Mr. Montague seemed to be very feeble, and he was certainly very much terrified.
"Put your arm around that shroud, Mr. Barkesdale," said the captain to the person whom the colonel called Tom.
Tom Barkesdale stood upon the rail then, with his left arm around one of the shrouds of the Skylark. The stern of the Penobscot was down so low in the water, that it was not a long step down from the rail to that of the smaller yacht. Tom took the hand of the old gentleman as he stepped down; but at that instant the warp-line, which held the bow of the Skylark, snapped in twain, and her head swung off. His son and the skipper had just let go of the old gentleman, and Tom's hold was wrenched away by a jerk of the boat. Mr. Montague went down between the two craft.
"Merciful Heaven!" cried the colonel. "Father is overboard!"
"Throw me a rope," yelled the sailing-master, as he dropped into the water and caught the old gentleman as he rose after sinking once.
Several lines were thrown to him, and with so many ready hands available, they were both drawn on board of the yacht in a moment. Though the venerable gentleman had received a terrible shock, he was not rendered insensible. The bow of the Skylark was again hauled up to the quarter of the Penobscot, and Mr. Montague was safety transferred to the cabin of the small yacht"What will you do, captain?" asked the colonel of the sailing-master.
"I will stick by her with the crew. At low tide we will take the ballast out of her, and float her off the next tide."
"Are your men willing to stay?"
"They must stay; they are as safe here as on shore; at least till the next tide, and I shall be ready to float her off by that time."
Colonel Montague went on board of the Skylark. A couple of men from the Penobscot were sent to assist in working her, though Bobtail protested that he had not the least need of them. The close-reefed mainsail was hoisted, and the Skylark went off on her course. By this time it was quite dark, but the light-house on Negro Island was a sufficient guide to the skipper. The yacht rolled fearfully, and to keep out of the trough of the sea Bobtail headed her to a point south of his destination. In an hour he was as near the main land as it was prudent to venture in the night, and then he put the Skylark before the wind. Before eleven o'clock he was at the wharf. He had not seen his passengers since they came on board.
"My father has suffered severely from his mishap," said Colonel Montague, after the boat was made fast.
"I'm sorry for it, sir. I didn't think of such a thing as that warp-line breaking," replied Bobtail.
"Of course it was not your fault. You have done well for us, and I have no fault to find with you. I want some one to go to the hotel, and tell the landlord to send a coach, for my father cannot walk up."
"Monkey will go;" and the Darwinian was on his way in a moment.
The Hon. Mr. Montague was apparently very ill. The cold bath and the shock had severely shaken his frame. He was trembling with cold when Bobtail went below, and Mrs. Montague was holding his head. He was wrapped up in shawls, coats, and all the clothing available. The lady and her daughter spoke very kindly to the young skipper; but they were too much disturbed by the condition of the old gentleman to say much.
"I think you ought to have a doctor, Ned," said Tom Barkesdale.
"Send for one at once, then," said the colonel.
"What are you going to do, Edward?" asked the old gentleman, in feeble tones.
"I have sent for a coach, to take you to the hotel."
"I want to go home. Can't I go in this boat?"
"It blows too hard to-night, father."
"A boat is easier than a carriage. Let me go home in this boat, when the wind goes down."
"Then we had better not take him on shore," said Tom. "We can make up a good bed in this cabin for him."
"Do, Edward," groaned the old gentleman.
"I will go to the hotel, and get everything we need," added Tom, "and Bobtail shall go for the doctor."
In half an hour the skipper returned with Dr. Estabrook, and the coach came with an abundant supply of beds and bedding. Mrs. Montague and her daughter went up to the Bay View, while the gentleman took off the wet clothes of the sufferer, and put him to bed. A fire was made in the cook-room, which heated the cabin when the door was open. The doctor prescribed for his patient, and he was soon made more comfortable. About midnight the rain began to fall in torrents,and the wind howled fearfully. But the storm lasted only a couple of hours, and at three o'clock in the morning the wind came fresh from the westward, and the sky was clear. The change knocked down the sea, and made a fair wind for Belfast. Tom Barkesdale went to the hotel for Mrs. Montague and Grace, and at four o'clock the Skylark sailed. She made a comfortable passage of it, and reached the town in three hours.
Mr. Montague's clothes had been dried, and he was dressed. His carriage was sent for, and he was conveyed to his elegant mansion. His family physician superintended his removal. He had hardly entered the house, when he was taken with the most alarming symptoms. In less than half an hour he breathed his last, and there were weeping and wailing in the elegant mansion. Death comes alike to the rich and the poor, and invades the palace as well as the hovel.
Colonel Montague wept like a child; the strong man was shaken by the throes of grief. He felt that he would have given all he had for the consciousness that he had never deceived that kind and indulgent father who lay silent in death before him. An hour after the sad event, Tom Barkesdale tried to comfort his friend.
"I would give the world if I had never deceived him," moaned the grief-stricken son.
"It was all for the best. Your father has passed away full of years and honors. It is well as it is."
"No, no, Tom! It was all wrong."
"You have only saved him from misery, which might have killed him years ago, for the doctor says he had a disease of the heart. Don't reproach yourself, Ned."
"Where is the boy—Robert?" he asked suddenly. "I have wronged him still more. Where is he?"
"I don't know. I haven't seen him since we left the boat."
"Go for him, Tom. Bring him back. He shall not suffer this wrong another hour. He is a noble little fellow, and I am proud of him. Bring him back."
Tom went to the wharf in the carriage, but the Skylark was three miles down the bay, on her way to Camden. It was of no use to chase that boat, and the messenger returned to his weeping friend.
"Go to him, Tom; tell him all, and bring him back," said Colonel Montague; and his friend took the next steamer for Camden.
Little Bobtail had sailed as soon as the invalid was landed, for he was anxious to be at home when the Eagle arrived. He had been up all night, while Monkey had slept in the cook-room; and as soon as the Skylark was clear of the harbor, the skipper gave the helm to the Darwinian, and turned in. He was sleeping heavily in the cabin of the yacht, while the telegraph wires were flashing all over the state the intelligence of the death of the Hon. Mr. Montague. The wind was light, so that the Skylark made a long passage: and Monkey did not wake the skipper till the yacht was off North-east Point. He had slept five hours, and felt like a new man. He went on shore as soon as the boat came up to the wharf, and ascertained that the Eagle had not yet arrived. Walking up to the cottage, he found his mother sitting on the front doorstep, in the shade, sewing.
"Why, Robert, where did you come from?"
"From Belfast last."
"Did he die before you got there?"
"Die? Who?"
"Why, old Mr. Montague."
"He isn't dead."
"Yes, he is. The telegram came this forenoon."
"But I helped him on shore myself at seven o'clock this morning."
"He died at half past seven, the despatch says. And you didn't know it?"
"No, I didn't. That's strange. But I started for home as soon as I saw him in the carriage, and slept all the way down."
Mrs. Taylor had not seen her son since the examination at the office of Squire Norwood, but she had heard that he returned from Mount Desert late at night, and had gone to Belfast early in the morning. Bobtail had begun to relate his adventures at Mount Desert, when Squire Gilfilian presented himself at the door. It was known now that the Skylark had been to Bar Harbor, with Mr. Hines and the deputy sheriff as passengers. The young skipper had told this the night before, but nothing more—not even that his passengers had not returned with him. The squire had heard this report, and he was anxious to know the result of the visit.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Taylor," said the lawyer. "I am glad to find your son here, for I want to talk with him. But I wish to say to you, in the first place, that I don't consider that mortgage fairly cancelled."
"Why not? Didn't I pay you the money?" asked Mrs. Taylor, very much alarmed.
"You did, but that bill was already mine. Mr. Slipwing sent me five hundred dollars, and I have received it—the very bill he sent. From you and from him I ought to have a thousand dollars, but I have only half that amount."
"Am I to lose that money?" demanded the poor woman.
"Well, am I?" echoed the squire, with a bland smile. "If my horse is stolen, I take him wherever I find him, and whoever has bought or sold him."
The lawyer was talking to a woman knowing but little of law and business, and he was doubtful himself whether he could claim that bill after it had passed, in good faith, through the hands of several persons.
"I don't think it's right," protested Mrs. Taylor.
"Nor I, either," added Bobtail. "My mother didn't steal it, and I didn't steal it."
"No one knows who did steal it," said the squire. "Captain Chinks still contends that you took the letter, my boy; and he has gone down toBar Harbor to ascertain how the bill got there. He thinks you heard of that boat, and sent some one down to buy her. He means to look up the case."
"He'll look it up with a vengeance," replied Bobtail. "It is already looked up."
"What do you mean? I hear that you have been to Bar Harbor."
"I have."
"Did you see Captain Chinks?"
"I haven't anything to say about it," answered Bobtail.
"Can't you tell me whether you saw him or not?" asked the squire, in his cross-examination style.
"I can, but I would rather not. Mr. Brooks told me to keep still about it, and I'm going to do so."
The squire coaxed and threatened, but without effect.
"You will know all about it to-day or to-morrow. There comes the Eagle,—Captain Chinks's boat, Squire Gilfilian. He's in her, and he will tell you all you want to know, and more too, perhaps."
The lawyer was not in good humor, though he was, in the main, a very good sort of man. He did not like to have a boy like Little Bobtail say no to him.
"I must say, Mrs. Taylor, it looks rather black for your son. Colonel Montague testifies that the bill which was stolen with the letter was paid for a boat to a gentleman at Bar Harbor. Your son comes home one night with a boat, and no one knows where he got it," said Squire Gilfilian, sharply.
"He told where he got it, and he was discharged at the examination yesterday," replied Mrs. Taylor, smartly.
"We shall see when Captain Chinks gets back."
"I think you will see," added Bobtail.
"In the mean time, Mrs. Taylor, I shall expect you to pay the mortgage note," said the squire, as he walked towards the railroad wharf, where the Eagle appeared to be headed.
Bobtail soon followed him, and was at the wharf when the Eagle came up at the steps.
"So you have arrived, Bobtail," said Mr. Hines.
"I got in at eleven o'clock last night, and should have been here sooner if I hadn't stopped to pick up the Penobscot's people," replied the skipper of the Skylark, as he proceeded to describe his cruise, and tell the news of the wreck, and of the death of the Hon. Mr. Montague.
"And so you have been to Belfast since?"
"Yes; and been back some time. Where's Captain Chinks? Squire Gilfilian wants to see him," added Bobtail, as the lawyer came down the steps.
"The captain is below. He is all used up, and willing to confess everything. But we must take him down to Rockland at once, and we will go in the Skylark. For we want her there."
"She's all ready, sir."
"Where's Captain Chinks?" demanded the squire.
The captain came on deck when he heard the lawyer's voice. He was pale and dejected. The Eagle had anchored under the lee of an island during the storm, and Mr. Hines had explained to him both the law and the nature of the testimony. The detective told him he would probably get off easier if he pleaded guilty, and madeall the restitution in his power. The captain had about concluded to do so, but he desired to consult his counsel.
"It's a light wind, and we must be off at once," said Mr. Hines, impatiently. "You can go with us, if you like, Squire Gilfilian, but I can't wait for you to discuss the case."
The squire was willing to go to Rockland, and in half an hour the Skylark was standing down the bay.
"Well, Captain Chinks, did you find the man who paid that five hundred dollar bill to Colonel Montague?" asked Squire Gilfilian, as he seated himself in the standing-room, opposite his client.
"I didn't look for him," replied the captain, studying the seams in the deck.
"I thought that was what you went down there for. You told me that, in your opinion, Bobtail here had sent some one down to Bar Harbor to buy this boat with the money taken from the letter," added the squire, whose "fine judicial mind" had not yet grasped the truth. "I don't see any other way that this bill could have got to Bar Harbor."
"Mr. Hines and I saw the man that received the bill for the boat," added the deputy sheriff.
Captain Chinks looked up at the speaker, as if to entreat him to deal gently.
"Well, who gave him the bill?" demanded the squire, impatiently.
"The captain can tell you."
"How can he tell me? He didn't see the man. Why didn't you see him, captain?"
"I had something else to think of," replied the culprit, with the most woe-begone expression that ever darkened the face of man. "It's no use for me to try to beat to windward any more. I gave him the bill myself, Squire Gilfilian. That's the truth."
"You!" gasped the lawyer.
"I gave it to him."
"That can be proved, for Mr. Gordon identified him as he came off the steamer at Bar Harbor," added Mr. Brooks.
"I don't deny it," said the captain, meekly.
"But where did you get the bill?" asked the squire.
Captain Chinks did not answer immediately. It was too humiliating to tell the whole truth, and the lawyer seemed to be very slow to comprehend it.
"I had no more notion of opening that letter than I had of flying," he said, at last, after the squire had repeated his question.
"Did you open it?"
"I'll tell you just how it was; but, upon my word, I didn't mean to open it. Bobtail came into your office that day with the two letters in his hand, one for you and one for me. He gave me one of them, and I tore it open without looking at the address."
"Did I give you the wrong one?" asked the skipper.
"You did; and that was what made all the mischief," answered the captain, wishing to lessen his guilt if possible.
"I didn't know I gave you the wrong one. I had no reason for doing so. I put the other on the desk, as you told me to do," explained Bobtail.
"Yes; you tossed it on the desk, and it fell with the address down. You went out then, and I found the letter I had opened was for Squire Gilfilian, and had a five hundred dollar bill in it."
"There was no harm done even then," said the lawyer. "If you had given it to me andexplained the mistake, it would have been all right."
"That's where I made my mistake, squire. I was afraid you would think I meant to steal your money, or pry into your business, and I put the letter into my pocket. It came from the bank robbers, and I didn't suppose you would believe any such letter had been sent to you."
"I didn't till the man identified the bill," replied the squire. "Mrs. Taylor gave me the bill in the morning, and while I was writing her release, Mr. Slipwing came into the office. When the woman paid me the money, I couldn't help wondering where she got so large a bill. Happening to think of her son's connection with the letter, it occurred to me that he had opened that letter. Slipwing described the bill before he saw it, so as fully to identify it. Of course I was entirely satisfied then that Bobtail had stolen the letter."
"I don't blame you for thinking so," said the skipper.
"It looked like a plain case; but it is singular how that bill came back to me. You went off to Mount Desert that day, Captain Chinks."
"Yes; I expected a lot of stuff from the provinces. I went to Bar Harbor, and bought the boat."
"And you paid the bill from the letter for the boat? Now, that brings up another question. The bill belonged to me, and I claim it. What Mrs. Taylor paid me amounts to nothing."
"I don't believe you can make that go, Squire Gilfilian," said Mr. Hines. "If I mistake not, there's a decision the other way."
"I shall try it, at any rate," added the squire.
"No, you needn't," interposed Captain Chinks. "I will make it good myself."
"That will settle the case," replied the squire, who knew that his client had the means to do so.
"If Mrs. Taylor must make good the loss to you, then Colonel Montague must make it good to her, and Mr. Gordon to the colonel. If the payment in stolen money was not legal, there was no sale of the boat, and she still belongs to Mr. Gordon," continued Mr. Hines. "In the mean time the government has seized her for violation of the revenue laws, and the case is decidedly mixed."
"I will pay the squire the five hundred dollars," added the smuggler.
"And lose your boat besides?" queried the squire.
"What's the use? You can't fight against the government. The custom-house officers have the boat and the stuff."
"What stuff?" asked the squire.
"A lot of brandy that I could have sold for over a thousand dollars, which didn't cost me four hundred. It would bring fifteen hundred at retail."
"O ho!" said the squire, opening his eyes.
"I'm caught, and I may as well make the best of it. I used to think this sort of business paid, but I don't think so now. I shall lose my boat, the money I paid for the stuff, and have to pay a fine of a thousand dollars besides. That makes me about two thousand out—half of all I'm worth, besides my farm; and all because Little Bobtail wouldn't make a trade with me. I as good as offered to give him the boat, if he would return the stuff; and I reckon he'll wish he had when you take the boat away from him, for he has been making money with her."
"No, he won't," said Mr. Hines, decidedly. "He gave the information that led to the seizureof the goods, and his share of the fine and forfeiture will be at least five hundred dollars, and he can buy the boat."
"Is that so?" exclaimed the skipper, opening his eyes. "I had no idea I was to make anything out of this business. But I am in love with this boat; and if I get her, I shall be the happiest fellow on Penobscot Bay."
"You will have her; and we'll manage it so that you shall have the use of her till she is sold," added Mr. Hines.
Captain Chinks was no longer a man of doubtful reputation. His contraband operations were capable of proof without his confession, and his reputation as a dishonest man was now fully established. The Skylark arrived at Rockland in a couple of hours. The United States deputy marshal arrested Captain Chinks; but he was liberated on bail furnished by Squire Gilfilian. The Skylark was seized, and Mr. Hines appointed keeper; and, on his own responsibility, he permitted Bobtail to have the use of her.
The detective had fully sifted the captain's method of operating. He was in company with a "Blue Nose" fisherman, who used to run thegoods down to the coast of Maine, where his partner took them into his boat, usually in the night, or under the lee of some uninhabited island. Another lot was on its way, but the captain concluded to have them properly entered, and paid the duties.
When Bobtail returned from the custom-house in Rockland to the Skylark, he found Mr. Tom Barkesdale on board of her, waiting for him. This gentleman had come down to Camden in the steamer, and finding that the boy had gone to Rockland, he obtained a team, and drove to that place, where he found the Skylark at the wharf. Monkey did not know where the skipper had gone; but he soon appeared with all his passengers, for the business had not detained them more than an hour. But Mr. Barkesdale was not inclined to "tell him all" in the presence of so many persons. He finally, after much persuasion, induced Bobtail to return with him in his buggy, while Mr. Hines sailed the Skylark back to Camden. Nothing but the assurance that the business was of the utmost importance could prevail upon the skipper to leave the yacht; and much he wondered what that business could be. They walked upto the hotel together, but, as yet, Mr. Barkesdale said nothing.
"I think you have worn that bobtail coat about long enough," said the gentleman, when they came to Main Street.
"I have a better suit at home."
"What color is it?"
"Blue, sir."
"That will hardly answer. You must go up to Belfast with me, and attend the funeral of Mr. Montague."
"I?"
"Yes; the family are all very much interested in you. You need a black suit, and we will get one here," added Mr. Barkesdale, as they entered the best clothing store on the street.
The finest suit that could be obtained was purchased; and it was supplemented, at other stores, with a cap, nice shoes, black kid gloves, and other furnishing goods. Bobtail protested against the gloves; he did not want any gloves in summer; never wore them, except in winter. But Mr. Barkesdale said he must wear them at the funeral, if he never did again.
"I don't see why I should be rigged up in allthese togs, to go to the funeral of a man I never saw but twice in my life," said Bobtail, as they seated themselves in the buggy.
"You don't know much," laughed Mr. Barkesdale.
"I know I don't."
"You don't even know your own name."
"Everybody calls me Little Bobtail, and it wouldn't be strange if I forgot my own name," replied the boy.
"I'm told your father's habits are not very good."
"Zeke Taylor's? He isn't my father; he is my mother's second husband; and my father died when I was small."
"Your mother must have a hard time of it with a drunken husband."
"That's so; I wish she would leave him; and I think she will, for he don't do much, and spends all he gets for rum. He's ugly, too, and tries to get her money away from her."
"Then your mother has money of her own?"
"I don't know; there's something strange about it," replied Bobtail, looking into the face of his companion, and wondering what he was "drivingat." "Zeke says she has money hid away from him."
"Then you have thought of the matter?"
"Well, I can't see, for the life of me, how she supports the family."
"Well you don't know much—not even your own name," laughed Mr. Barkesdale again.
"I know that my father's name was Wayland, and by rights mine ought to be Wayland."
"Are you quite sure of that?"
"Of course I am. I know what my mother told me. I was born in the Island of Cuba."
"That's true, but not the rest of it."
"What do you mean?"
"Your name is not Wayland."
"What is it, then?" asked Bobtail, amazed beyond expression.
"Your name is Robert Barkesdale Montague—the middle name after me."
"You don't mean so!"
"I do; and when you see your mother, as you call her, she will tell you the same thing."
"Isn't she my mother?" asked Bobtail,—or rather Robert, as we shall insist upon calling him now,—with a gasp of astonishment.
"She is not; she is a very worthy woman, but she is not your mother."
"Well, who is my mother?"
"The first Mrs. Montague, of course; she died in Cuba when you were only a few months old. Mrs. Wayland—as she was then—was your nurse. She has brought you up, and brought you up very well too, for it appears that you are an honest, good boy, noble, brave, and intelligent."
"But what's the reason I never knew anything about this before?" asked the puzzled youth.
"I'll tell you;" and Mr. Barkesdale told the story which is related in the first two chapters.
"I supposed I had a mother, but no father. It turns out just the other way," said Robert, rubbing his throbbing head.
"And your father is one of the best men in the world."
"Mrs. Taylor is one of the best women in the world; and I shall be sorry to leave her. I don't like to believe she is not my mother, after all she has done for me. I don't believe she ever spoke a cross word to me in her life;" and the tears started in the boy's eyes.
"I don't think you will have to leave her. Your father will take her up to Belfast."