CHAPTER IV
A Pair of Scoundrels
“Brick!” cried Don, scarcely daring to believe his eyes.
“Teddy Allison!” ejaculated Captain Sturdy, in a tone that conveyed sternness as well as astonishment.
“Bless my soul!” exclaimed Professor Bruce, staring hard at the stowaway, as though wondering whether it was Teddy in the flesh or his ghost.
But it was a very substantial Teddy that stood before them, held in the grip of two of the sailors, his clothes rumpled and disheveled, smears of dirt across his face, his uncombed red hair flaming above his pale features.
His eyes had lighted with joy as they looked at Don, but fell sheepishly before the gravity that had replaced astonishment in the eyes of the captain and the professor.
Don leaped forward impulsively and threw his arm over Brick’s shoulder.
“You sure had me going for a minute, Brick,” he said. “You could have knocked me down with a feather. But I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you here.”
The evident acquaintance of the Sturdys and Professor Bruce with the stowaway caused the sailors to relinquish their hold of Teddy’s collar, and just at that moment one of the officers of the ship came along to look into the matter.
Captain Sturdy addressed him.
“You needn’t worry about this boy, officer,” he said. “His father is a friend of mine. I’ll take all responsibility for him and pay his passage.”
“Certainly, sir, certainly,” replied the officer. “That will be all right. Hardly know where we’ll find accommodation for him though. All our staterooms are taken.”
“He can share the cabin of my nephew,” replied the captain. “Come, Teddy,” he went on, addressing the culprit. “Don will take you to his room and fit you out with some of his clothes after you’ve had a bath. Then I’ll have something to say to you, young man.”
There was something in Captain Sturdy’s tone and glance that was not at all reassuring to the aforesaid young man, who hurried away with Don, glad to get away from the half-wondering, half-amused glances of the passengers who had been summoned by the hubbub.
“Gee, Don, I suppose I’m in for an awful scolding,” Teddy whispered to his chum, as he watched the uncompromising back of the captain.
“Shouldn’t wonder, old boy,” laughed Don. “You’ll probably get an earful. But, after all, Uncle Frank won’t eat you. And, at any rate, you’re here, and nothing else matters much. You won’t get any scolding from me, that’s a cinch. You look mighty good to me, Brick. I’m crazy to hear what’s happened to you since the ship sailed.”
“It’s a long story, mates,” replied the grinning Teddy, whose mercurial spirits began to rise, despite the lecture in store for him. “But first let me get rid of some of this grime and slip into some decent clothes. Then I’ll feel like a civilized human being again. Gee, there’s no hobo has anything on me.”
So Don forbore to question his friend further, and busied himself in getting out some of his clothes, while Teddy splashed about in the bathtub.
Teddy had scarcely finished dressing when there came a knock on the door. Don opened it, and the captain and the professor entered.
“Now, young man,” said the captain, as they seated themselves, “perhaps you can explain your action in running away from home and stowing yourself away on this ship. It goes without saying that your father knew nothing about it.”
The tone was cold and the look that went with it seemed to bore Teddy through and through and demand the truth. Not that Teddy thought of telling anything else. Falsehood was not one of his vices.
His face flushed almost as red as his hair as he fidgeted about, nervously clasping and unclasping his fingers.
“I—I—meant to tell my father,” he stammered. “I tried to find out where he was. I wrote and telegraphed and telephoned. But he was going from one place to another, and, somehow, I couldn’t get in touch with him.”
“Well?” said the captain, as Teddy paused.
“Then,” confessed Teddy. “I got desperate to think of Don going to Egypt without me, and I made up my mind to go anyway and tell my father about it afterward.”
“Afterward!” repeated the captain, with a sarcasm that was not lost on its object. “So you think it’s all right to do things like this and ask your father’s permission when it’s too late for him to say no?”
“I don’t suppose it was just right,” admitted Teddy. “But I was sure he would let me go if he knew about it. When I wanted to go with Don to Brazil and he wouldn’t let me, he half promised that I could go along if Don made another trip. And it isn’t as though I hadn’t tried to get his permission,” he added, in the hope of softening Captain Sturdy’s heart.
“That would have made it worse,” conceded the captain. “All the same, that is no excuse for doing as you did. Undoubtedly your father will be greatly worried when he comes home and finds you gone.”
“Oh, I took care of that!” exclaimed Teddy, snatching eagerly at any redeeming feature. “I left a letter for my father with one of the servants, telling him all about it. He’ll know I am with you and that you will take good care of me.”
The calm assurance of this almost took the captain’s breath away, and a smile came to the professor’s lips that he repressed instantly.
“And of course father will pay you for any expense I am to you,” said Teddy, who had caught the professor’s smile and took heart of hope from it.
The captain pondered for a moment.
“You did very wrong, Teddy,” he said gravely. “No boy has a right to take such a step as that without his father’s consent. If I could, I would send you back at once. But that is impossible. At the first stopping place, I will cable to your father and get his directions in the matter. In the meantime, of course, you are one of our party. I am very much displeased with you.”
With this Parthian shot, the captain left the cabin, followed by the professor.
Teddy wiped the perspiration from his face and looked at Don.
“Gee, he did give it to me good and plenty,” he said, as he sank down on the bed. “I feel as though I’d been drawn through a knothole. And at that, I know that everything he said was right.”
“Everything that Uncle Frank says is right,” declared Don loyally. “But tell me now, Brick, just how you managed to get on board and stow yourself away. Here I was, sore as a pup because you didn’t come down to see me off, and you’ve been right on the ship with us all the time.”
“I came down to the ship the night before she sailed,” explained Teddy. “It was dark, and I slipped on board when no one was looking and hid away in one of the lifeboats. I didn’t mean then—anyway, I didn’t more than half mean—to be a stowaway. I told myself that I’d see you and your uncles when you came on in the morning and beg them to take me with them. I knew I wouldn’t have to beg you,” he added, with a grin.
“You bet you wouldn’t,” laughed Don. “I couldn’t have said yes quick enough.”
“But while I was hiding in the lifeboat I had plenty of time for thinking,” went on Teddy; “and the more I thought, the surer I got that your uncles wouldn’t do it without my father’s knowledge.”
“You were dead right there!”
“But I was crazy to go,” resumed Teddy, “and I decided that the only way I could go was to stow myself away so that I couldn’t be found until after the vessel sailed. The lifeboat didn’t seem safe enough, for all that any one walking around would have to do would be to lift the tarpaulin covering and spy me.
“So I waited till after midnight and watched my chance and slipped down one of the open hatchways into the hold. There were hundreds of bales and barrels there, and it was easy to find a place where nobody would have a chance of finding me.”
“Why didn’t you come out sooner?” asked Don, in wonderment. “This is the third day that we’ve been sailing.”
“Couldn’t,” was the reply. “I found it was easier to get in than it was to get out. I’d have come out after the first day if I could. But it was only this afternoon that a sailor came down in the hold for something, and I yelled to him. You ought to have heard the howl he let out. Guess he thought it was a ghost at first. Then he came for me. Oh, I got out on deck quick enough then—pulled up by the scruff of my neck.”
“Were you hurt?” asked Don quickly.
“He didn’t actually hit me,” replied Teddy; “but he twisted his knuckles in my neck till I thought I’d choke. I guess sailors feel toward stowaways something as brakemen feel about hoboes stealing rides on railroad trains. As soon as I could get my breath, I asked for the Sturdy party; and you know the rest.”
“How did you get along for grub?” asked Don. “Did you have any with you?”
“Not a bit,” was the answer. “You see, when I first came on board I counted on seeing you the next morning, really, so I didn’t bring anything along with me. After I’d been down in the hold awhile I began to feel hungry. Then I got scared for fear I’d starve to death. But I rustled around among the boxes and barrels and found some boxes where the covers had been cracked or loosened and got hold of some canned goods, beef and preserved cherries. I broke the cans open on the sharp edge of a box. But, oh, boy, what I’m going to do to the grub when I once get at a regular table!”
“There goes the gong now,” said Don, rising. “Come right along and fill up.”
“Lead me to it!” cried Teddy, jumping up.
What he did to the fare of the liner’s table amply fulfilled his prediction. Even the silent disapproval that still persisted on the faces of the captain and the professor had no effect on his appetite.
“Does it beat canned beef and cherries?” whispered the grinning Don, who was sitting beside him.
“By a thousand miles,” replied Teddy, as clearly as he could with his mouth full. “I’ve already let out my belt twice.”
They had reached the dessert when Teddy gave a start. His eyes had fallen on the faces of two of his fellow passengers, seated at a table a few feet away.
“Who are those fellows?” he asked, in an agitated whisper.
Don followed the direction of his glance.
“They’re Egyptians,” he answered. “Their names are Tezra and Nepahak. Why do you ask?”
“They’re rascals!” declared Teddy emphatically.