A millionaire at sixteen

Louis was quite as tired of the battle of words as his mother, though it had given him a great deal of information that might be useful to him. He had been very anxious to ascertain whether or not Scoble was aware that the missing million had been discovered. He was now satisfied that he was entirely ignorant of the fact that the vast sum had been taken from its hiding-place, and safely invested by the trustee. It was evident that he had known for at least two years where the treasure was concealed, and he now offered his knowledge as a bribe to effect a reconciliation with Mrs. Belgrave.

Frinks had resided at the hotel at the Park only long enough to introduce himself to Louis. If he had talked with the people of the town, or with the clerk of the hotel, he would have been likely to learn the fact that the young man was a millionaire, though a few weeks had been enough to make it an old story. Even if the agent had obtained this knowledge, he had hardly had an opportunity to communicate it to the captain since his return.

Louis had certainly spoken to him about his inability to spend his large income; but most of their conversation had consisted of bantering and pleasantries, and doubtless Frinks regarded the alleged difficulty in spending his income as an idle boast; for he had claimed to be beset by the same trouble. His single mission was to get Louis and his mother on board of the schooner, and his mind had been fixed on this purpose. At any rate, he had not been able to inform Scoble that the missing million had been found; and the captain complained that his agent had not obtained for him the current news at the Park.

Louis thought there had been talk enough, and that it was time something was done. Of course he had not the least idea of allowing his mother and himself to be conveyed to England, and especially not in such a craft as the Maud, of whose sea-worthiness he had serious doubts. Captain Ringgold had not yet reported on the state of her timbers, but the mate had intimated that the masts were weak and rotten. The time for action had come. The excitement of the interview with the captain had certainly enabled Mrs. Belgrave to forget that she was sea-sick, for she seemed to be as well as when she was on shore.

It was now about three by the cabin clock, and when Louis had escorted his mother to the stateroom, he decided to visit his friends in the second cabin, and arrange his plan either to capture the vessel, or to effect the escape of the party. The captain was passionate and full of malignity, and Louis thought he ought to be afraid of him. He could not understand why he was not so, unless the presence of his mother on board explained it. He was prepared for anything that might happen, and he walked directly towards the pantry door, Bickling having gone to the galley long before.

“Where are you going now, Louis?” demanded the captain, moving towards his involuntary passenger, doubtless believing that he had some hostile intention in his mind.

“I am going into the other cabin to see my friends,” replied Louis with all the self-possession a young fellow could need under such trying circumstances.

“No, you are not!” exclaimed the captain, his lips compressed, and his eyes glaring like the serpent he was. “Perhaps it is necessary for me to remind you that I command this vessel.”

“Not at all necessary, Captain Scoble; I am fully aware of the fact, and I am perfectly willing that you should command her just as much as you please.”

“Then you will remain in this cabin.”

“Excuse me; you may command the vessel and the crew all you like, but I respectfully decline to be commanded,” added Louis.

“Let me tell you that the passengers as well as the crew are under my orders.”

“I am not in the humor for any more discussions; you may command as much as you please, and I shall not obey. I am a kidnapped prisoner, and hardly a passenger,” retorted the young man, as he opened the pantry door.

“Stop, you young rascal!” stormed the captain.

“Louis!” called his mother in a tone which assured him that she was already alarmed at the situation, though it was likely to be a great deal worse before it was any better.

Whatever happened he could not turn a deaf ear to the call of his mother, and he started towards her. Scoble stood between him and her, and it was necessary to pass him. Beside the pantry door was a small stick of cord wood, not more than an inch in diameter, which the steward used to fasten the door back when he was at work on the dishes. Louis grasped it, for he did not care to take out his revolver in the presence of his mother if he could avoid it.

Armed with this stick, which he used as a cane, he moved towards Mrs. Belgrave. He was quite ready to use it as a weapon if necessary, though he was not belligerent enough to do so unless the occasion absolutely required it.

“What are you going to do with that stick, you young ruffian?” demanded Scoble, speaking in the imperative mood, as though he insisted upon an immediate answer.

“I do not wish to do anything with it; but I have seen the time when I found it convenient to have a stick in my hand. For instance, when you attempted to rob Mr. Woolridge of the ten thousand dollars in his pocket, between your stable and the station, I should have been very glad to have a club in my hand, though it might have cost you a broken head. As it was, Flix and I fought the battle with our naked fists. I came off with your collar and necktie, which mother identified as yours, and I have them still as mementoes of the occasion. You will admit that a stick is sometimes a handy thing to have in your hand, and I thought I would be provided with one on the present occasion, if you do not object,” replied Louis, putting in a point not before touched upon.

“But I do object,” growled the captain, though it was plain that he had been startled by the reply of the rebellious passenger.

“All right; I will hear your objections next summer,” said Louis, as he came to his mother’s side.

“I am afraid you will get hurt, my son,” pleaded Mrs. Belgrave, as she took his hand.

“I am a hundred times more afraid that you will get hurt than that I shall,” continued Louis, as he led her back into the stateroom. “Don’t be at all alarmed about me; I can take care of myself. Go in, mother; lock the door, and do not come out.”

“That is my stateroom, and I shall not give it up to any person, and especially not to one who treats me as that woman does,” interposed the captain with a fierce scowl on his brow. “I say, I shall not give up my room!”

“Yes, you will, my dear captain, for you were always the most gallant man in the world, and you are not going to belie your record on this happy occasion,” replied Louis, as he came out of the room, closing the door behind him, which his mother immediately locked.

“I would give it up to a lady,” said Scoble with the most withering sneer he could paint on his handsome face, or it would have been handsome if he had not made it ugly at this moment.

“Thank you, captain; I knew you would give it up to a lady.”

“Do you call that woman a lady?” demanded the captain, looking as ugly as sin itself, however personified.

“A word, Captain John Scoble,” said Louis, stepping towards him, with the lower end of his stick raised from the floor. “You may call me anything you please, and I shall enjoy it as much as you do; but if you say an insolent or disrespectful word to or of my mother, I shall have immediate occasion to use this stick.”

“This is mutiny!” roared the captain, dancing about the cabin floor in his wrath like a jumping-jack.

“I dare say it is; if it be mutiny to protect my mother from insult, I shall be a mutineer to your heart’s content,” returned Louis, as his mother opened the door again, and stepped out.

Her son hastened to her, and keeping one eye on the miscreant, gently crowded her back into the room.

“Now, my dear mother, do not be alarmed at anything you may hear. I am abundantly able to take care of this man without the help of our friends. I am going to bring them into this cabin, and I hope this circus will come to an end before night,” said he to her.

“But don’t be rash, my dear boy,” she replied, drawing him hastily to her breast, and kissing him on his brow. “I am terribly frightened.”

“There isn’t anything to frighten you, dear mother. I shall be with you again in a minute or two,” he added, as he disengaged himself from her arms.

He turned suddenly and discovered Scoble near the door, ready to make a plunge at him while his back was turned, or at least to go into the room. The moment he saw the face of the young defender of his mother, he retreated a few steps, still yielding a respectful homage to the stick.

“This is my stateroom, and though I might give it up to your mother, badly as she has behaved”—

“She has behaved like a heroic Christian woman, and whether you consent or not, she shall occupy this room,” answered Louis firmly.

“Let her occupy the room!” exclaimed the captain, who seemed now to have some other object than to dispute the occupancy of the room in view.

“Thank you, Captain Scoble,” said Louis, bowing, for he never forgot his politeness, which was something more substantial than mere bowing and scraping.

“But all my things are in that room, and I desire to go in and get some of them,” continued the captain; and Louis concluded that he wanted to procure the pair of revolvers of which he had already obtained possession.

“I am sorry to disoblige you, but you cannot go into the room at present, for it is occupied by a lady,” replied Louis.

“My night-shirt is in there.”

“Then I am afraid you will have to sleep in your day-shirt if you sleep at all.”

Louis moved away from the door, and the captain retreated before him, apparently expecting to receive a blow on the head from the club, as he had on another occasion; and he therefore knew that the young man had the pluck to strike.

“This is mutiny!” howled Scoble, evidently unable to control himself any longer.

“So you suggested once before, and I dare say it is mutiny,” replied Louis indifferently.

“I will have you put in irons!” gasped the captain, almost foaming at the mouth.

“Bring on your irons,” added the mutineer carelessly.

Captain Scoble took a pair of rusty handcuffs from the table drawer, and marched towards the rebel as magnificently as though he had already executed his terrible threat. He went as near his intended victim as he dared to go, and then cast them at his feet, the irons making a ringing noise as they struck the floor.

“There they are!” exclaimed Scoble.

“All right; but when you put them on it will be necessary for me to be present, and you will kindly let me know when you are ready to perform the ceremony.”

“I will let you know, you young scoundrel!”

“Thank you, captain. The things won’t do any harm on the floor, and I am willing to let them remain there till you are ready to put them on. By the way, don’t you think you had better have them cleaned before you make use of them? for they look as though they were too rusty to be comfortable.”

“You will find them very comfortable when you are shut up in the hold, you impudent rascal!” cried the captain, dancing about in his inability to contain himself.

“Probably I shall when I am shut up in the hold. Very likely you will look upon it as mutiny, but I can’t help hinting that I have not the least idea of being shut up in the hold. I am at liberty just now, and I intend to remain free.”

“You won’t be free long!” yelled the captain, as he darted towards the companion-way, no doubt with the intention of calling some of the crew to his assistance.

Louis stepped between him and the stairs with the club in the air; and this movement caused the captain to retreat again. At the same time, he took his revolver from his pocket, for he thought he had better make things a little plainer to the enemy.

“Captain Scoble, you will do me the favor to retire to the after end of this cabin,” said he, pointing the weapon at him.

The villain could not stand the pistol, and obeyed the command. Louis remained near the pantry till Scoble reached the divan, under the stern windows.