The Launch Boys' Adventures in Northern Waters

But Alvin was a young gentleman, and asked the stranger to resume his seat, as he and Chester set the example. They noticed that the visitor was without the handbag which had hitherto seemed a part of his personality. Self-possessed and vaguely smiling, he spoke in an easy, pleasant voice:

“Of course you are surprised to receive a call from me.” He addressed Alvin, who replied:

“I don’t deny it. Heretofore you have seemed more anxious to keep out of our way than to meet us.”

“I admit that it did have that look, but the cause exists no longer.”

This remark did not enlighten the youths. Chester for a time took no part in the conversation. He listened and studied the man while awaiting an explanation of what certainly had the appearance of a curious proceeding.

“I don’t understand what could have been the cause in the first place,” said Alvin, “nor why my friend and myself should have been of any interest at all to you.”

The other laughed lightly, as if the curt remark pleased him.

“I have no wish to play the mysterious; my name is Stockham Calvert.”

It was Alvin’s turn to smile, while Chester said meaningly:

“That tells us mighty little.”

“I am one of Pinkerton’s detectives.”

The listeners started. They had never dreamed of anything of this nature, and remained silent until he should say more.

“You are aware,” continued the mild spoken caller, “that there have been a number of post office robberies in the southern part of Maine during the last six months and even longer ago than that.”

The boys nodded.

“A professional detective doesn’t know his business when he proclaims his purpose to the world. He does so in the story books, but would be a fool to be so imprudent in actual life. Consequently you will think it strange for me to take you into my confidence.”

“I don’t doubt you have an explanation to give,” suggested Alvin.

“I have and it is this. Without any purpose or thought on your part you have become mixed up in the business. The other night you gave me great help, though the fact never entered your minds at the time. You located their boat in a small inlet at the southern extremity of Barter Island.”

At this point Chester Haynes asked his first question:

“How do you know we did?”

Mr. Stockham Calvert indulged in a low laugh.

“Surely I did not follow you thither without learning all you did. Your conversation on the steamer gave me the information I wished. I did not expect you to succeed as well as you did.”

“Why did you avoid us? Why didn’t you take us into your confidence from the first?” asked Chester.

“I had several reasons, but I see now it would have been as well had I done so. However, let that go. My errand here to-night is to ask you whether you will not assist me in running down these criminals.”

The abrupt proposition caused a start on the part of the youths, who looked wonderingly into each other’s face. It was Alvin who replied:

“Assist you! What help can we give?”

“You have the fleetest motor boat on the Maine coast. It must be capable of twenty miles an hour.”

“It is guaranteed to make twenty-four.”

“Better yet. These men have a boat which closely resembles yours.”

“And its name is the Water Witch,” said Chester. “I wish Captain Landon could run a race with it.”

“He can have the chance if he will agree.”

“I fail to see how. Those men after committing their crimes are not going to spend their time in running up and down the Sheepscot or Kennebec.”

“Not wholly, but I don’t see any particular risk they incur in doing so. If they are pressed hard they can put into some bay or branch or inlet and take to the woods.”

“Still I do not understand how we can help you, Mr. Calvert,” said Alvin.

“It is possible you cannot, but more probably you can. While cruising in these waters, we may catch sight of their boat, and you can see the advantage of being able to outspeed it. But do not think I am looking for a battle between you and me on the one hand, and the criminals on the other. I wish to employ the Deerfoot as a scout. I can’t express myself better than by that word.”

Whatever the right name of the caller might be, he was a good judge of human nature. He saw the sparkle in the eyes before him. While the lads would not have been averse to a scrimmage, neither dared incur such risk without the consent of his father, and you do not need to be told that such consent was out of the question.

“As I understand it, then, our boat promises to be useful to you solely on account of its speed?” said Alvin inquiringly asked the detective.

“Precisely. What is your answer?”

The young Captain looked at his second mate.

“How does it strike you, Chester?”

“I’m with you if you wish to make the experiment. If things don’t turn out as we wish we can withdraw at any time.”

“Of course I shall expect to pay you for your services——”

“Then you will be disappointed,” interrupted Alvin crisply. “The Deerfoot isn’t for hire, and if we go into this it will be for the fun we hope to get out of it.”

“I think I can guarantee you some entertainment. I presume you two will be the only ones on the boat beside myself.”

“You mustn’t overlook my first mate, Mike Murphy. It would break his heart if we should go on a cruise and leave him behind.”

“I am afraid he is too impetuous and too fond of a fight.”

“He may have a weakness in those directions, but his good nature, pluck and devotion to my friend and me more than make up.”

“It strikes me——”

“I can’t help how it strikes you,” broke in Alvin, who did not intend to accept any commands at this stage of the game. “Mike goes with us wherever we go.”

“I feel the same way,” added Chester. “The Deerfoot can never brave the perils of the deep short-handed. The first mate is indispensable.”

“As you please then. When will you be ready to start?”

“When do you wish us to start?”

“Say to-morrow morning?”

“This is so sudden,” said Alvin, whose spirits rose at the prospect of the lively times ahead. “We ought to have a little while to think it over. However, if my second mate, who generally has views of his own, will agree, we’ll get under way to-morrow after breakfast.”

“I’m wid ye, as Mike would say.”

“Suppose, Mr. Calvert, we leave it this way: if we decide to go into this business, we’ll make the venture to-morrow morning.”

“I shall stay at the Squirrel Inn to-night and be on the wharf a little before nine, on the lookout for you. If you do not show up then or soon after I shall not expect you. Your boat will be in plain view all the time, so I shall see you when you start.”

“Why not stay with us over night? We shall be glad to have you do so,” was the hospitable invitation of Alvin Landon.

“Thank you very much,” replied Stockham Calvert, rising to his feet; “but I came over in a rowboat which is waiting to take me back. I engaged my room at the inn this afternoon.”

He bade them good night and walked briskly down the slope. The boys stood in front of the bungalow until they heard the sound of the oars and saw the dim outlines of the boat and its occupants heading eastward toward the twinkling lights from the inn and cottages on Squirrel Island.

“What do you make of it all?” asked Alvin of his chum, when after some minutes they returned to the big sitting room.

“I don’t know how to answer you,” replied Chester. “It looks to me as if we are bound to have lively times before we get through with the business. But, Alvin, all the time that man was talking I felt a curious distrust of him. He said he is a detective, but I’m not sure of it.”

“Suppose he belongs to the gang that is playing the mischief with Uncle Sam’s post offices in this part of the Union?”

“If that were so, what in the world can he want of you and your boat?”

“Because of its fleetness it may serve him when he needs it. However, I don’t see that any harm can come to it or to us. He can’t pick up the launch and run away with it and he would find it hard to do so with us.”

“Not forgetting Mike Murphy.”

“Then you accept his proposal?”

“Not I, but we together.”

“All right; it’s a go.”

AT nine o’clock on a bright sunshiny morning in August the usual group were gathered on the dock at Squirrel Island. Some were watching the arrival and departure of the different steamers, not forgetting the little Nellie G., plying between that summer resort and Boothbay Harbor, some three miles distant, with calls at other islands as the passengers wished. Sailboats were getting ready to take parties out, some to fish, while others sought only the pleasure of the cruise itself. Small launches came up to the low-lying float for men and women to get on board, while others were rowed out in small boats to the anchored craft.

By and by the attention of most of the spectators was fixed upon the beautiful Deerfoot, which, putting out from the lower end of Southport Island opposite, was heading toward Squirrel. The picture had become familiar to all and they admired the grace and symmetry of the launch which had won the reputation of being the swiftest of its kind in those waters. It was known that she was owned by Alvin Landon, the son of a millionaire who had built a handsome bungalow on Southport, where he was expected to spend his vacation days, though, as we know, he passed precious few of them there. Alvin was holding the wheel of his boat, while directly behind him sat his chum, Chester Haynes, calmly watching their approach to the floating dock.

The third member of the crew was our old friend Mike Murphy, whose official rank was first mate. Instead of sitting among his companions, the Irish lad had gone to the stern, where he sat with his legs curled up under him tailor fashion. He could not get much farther in that direction without slipping overboard. The figure of Mike was so striking that he drew more attention than did his comrades or the boat itself. His yachting cap was cocked at a saucy angle, revealing his fiery red hair, while underneath it was his broad, crimson face, sprinkled with freckles, and his vast grin revealed his big white teeth. It will be remembered that the remainder of his costume was his ordinary civilian attire, though Captain Alvin Landon had promised him a fine suit for the following season. The time was too short to secure one for the present occasion.

Mike’s good-natured grin awoke more than one responsive smile among the crowd on the dock. The universal opinion was that the youth from the Emerald Isle was so homely of countenance that he couldn’t be any homelier, but at the same time none could be more popular. He knew that the eyes of nearly every one were fixed upon him and he in turn scanned the different faces, all of which were strange to him.

Alvin Landon slowed down as he approached and guided his boat among the others with the skill of a professional chauffeur weaving in and out of a procession of carriages. He gave his whole attention to this task, Chester watching the performance with the admiration he had felt many times before. But it was the people who interested Mike. Before the boat rounded to, Stockham Calvert, the detective, accompanied by Lawyer Westerfield, of New York, walked down the inclined steps to the float. Westerfield was a gentleman of culture, an authority on many questions and one of the greatest baseball fans in the country. Having secured a liberal money contribution from Calvert the night before at the Inn, he invited him to stay and witness the great struggle between the Boothbay nine and the Squirrel Islanders. Westerfield was to act as umpire, his impartiality and quickness of perception having won the confidence of all parties; but of course Calvert had to decline under the pressure of a previous engagement.

“It does a fellow good to look at that broth of a boy squatting on the stern,” remarked Westerfield, while the Deerfoot was still a short distance away.

“His name is Mike and he is a great favorite with every one. As yet I have not met him, but he has all the wit and humor of his people. Suppose you test him.”

Nothing loath, Westerfield, who was a bit of a wag himself, called so that all heard him:

“You don’t need to show a red signal light, my friend; you ought to wait until night.”

Cocking his head a little more to one side, and with a slight extent of increase in the width of his grin—admitting that to be possible—Mike called back:

“Thin why have ye the graan light standing there on the wharf?”

Westerfield joined in the general laugh, but came back:

“That face of yours will keep off all danger by daylight.”

“And it’s yer own phiz that will sarve the same purpose at night.”

The laughter was louder than ever, and the pleased Calvert said to the lawyer:

“Better let him alone; he will down you every time.”

But Westerfield could not refuse to make another venture. Stepping back as if in alarm from the launch, which was now within arm’s reach, he feigned to be scared.

“Please don’t bite me with those dreadful teeth.”

Mike, who was now close to the wharf, leaped lightly upon it.

“Have no fear; the sight of yersilf has made a Joo of me.”

Then as if afraid that the listeners would not catch the force of his words, he added:

“A Joo, as ye may know, doesn’t ate pork.”

Detective Calvert slapped the lawyer on the shoulder.

“Try him again.”

“No; I have had enough.” Then raising his hat and bowing in salutation, Westerfield offered his hand to the lad, who shook it warmly.

“You’re too much for me, Mike. I’m proud to take off my hat to you.”

“And it’s me dooty to be equally respictful, as me dad said whin the bull pitched him over the fence and stood scraping one hoof and bowing from t’other side.”

While still in the boat, Alvin and Chester had returned the salutation of Calvert. The Captain remained seated at the wheel, but the second mate stepped out on the float and a general introduction followed. The detective and he went aboard and sat down on one of the seats. Mike kept them company, and throwing in the clutch, Alvin guided the launch into the spacious waters outside, all three waving a salute to Westerfield, who stood on the float and watched them for some minutes.

Detective Calvert had the good sense fully to admit Mike Murphy to his confidence, though he had hoped at first he would not be a member of the party. Alvin Landon gave the man to understand that he was not hiring out his boat, but was conferring a favor upon the officer, who had the choice of rejecting or accepting it on the terms offered. While Calvert could not doubt the loyalty of the young Hibernian, he distrusted his impulsiveness. But as I have said, having decided upon his line of conduct, he did not allow himself to show the slightest degree of distrust.

Mike on his part was tactful enough to act as listener while the man made clear his plans. He did not ask a question or speak until addressed. The launch moved so quietly that Alvin, with his hands upon the wheel and scanning the water in front, heard all that was said by the others, and when he thought it fitting took part in the conversation.

Instead of returning to Southport, the Deerfoot circled Cape Newagen, which you know is the southern extremity of that island, and entering the broad bay, headed up the Sheepscot River, over the same course it had followed before.

“Mike was not with you,” said Detective Calvert, “when you traced the other launch into that little inlet at the lower end of Barter Island. That boat stayed there overnight and may still be there, but probably is not.”

“Suppose it isn’t there?” said Chester.

“We must find out where she is. That is the chief reason for my presuming upon the kindness of the Captain to lend me the help of his launch. In other words, it is my wish that the Deerfoot shall serve as the Scout of the Kennebec.”

“A romantic title,” remarked Alvin, over his shoulder, “though we are not cruising on the Kennebec, but up the Sheepscot.”

“No doubt we shall have to visit the larger river. And then, you know,” added Calvert, with a smile, “the name I suggest sounds better than the other.”

The launch required no special attention just then, and, with one hand on the steering wheel, Captain Alvin looked around:

“Mike, what do you think of it?”

“Arrah, now, what’s the difference what ye call the boat? At home, I was sometimes referred to as the Queen of the May, and again as the big toad that St. Patrick forgot to drive out of Ireland, but all agraad that I was as swate under one title as the ither.”

“Suppose the Water Witch happens to be where Chester and I saw her at night?” asked Alvin of their director.

“We shall have to decide our course of action by what develops.”

Neither of the youths was fully satisfied with this reply. They could not believe that a professional detective would come this far upon so peculiar an enterprise without having a pretty clear line laid out to follow. It may have been as he said, however, and he was not questioned further.

The day could not have been finer. The threatening skies of a short time before had cleared and the sun was not obscured by a single cloud. Though warm, the motion of the launch made the situation of all pleasant. Since there was no call for haste, Calvert suggested to the Captain that he should not strain the engine, and Alvin was quite willing to spare it. The time might soon come when it would be necessary to call upon the boat to do her best, and he meant she should be ready to respond.

Past the Cat Ledges, Jo and Cedarbrush Islands moved the Deerfoot like a swan skimming over the placid waters. Then came Hendrick Light, Dog Fish Head, Green Islands and Boston Island. Powderhorn was passed, and then they glided by Isle of Springs, which brought them in sight of Sawyer. A little beyond was the inlet where they had seen the Water Witch reposing in the darkness of night.

“SLOW down,” said Detective Calvert as the launch drew near the southern end of Barter Island. Captain Alvin did as requested and all eyes were fixed upon the inlet.

“If that boat should happen to come out while we are in sight,” added Calvert, “pass up the river, as if you had no interest in it.”

“But if it should happen to be there?” said Alvin, repeating the question he had asked before.

“We can’t know until we have turned in, and then it would not do to withdraw, for that would be the most suspicious course of all. You have as much right to go thither as anyone. Act as if you were merely looking in out of curiosity; make a circuit of the islet and then come back and go on up the Sheepscot toward Wiscasset.”

It was at this moment that Mike Murphy asked a question whose point the others were quick to perceive.

“If the spalpeens are there, will ye let ’em have a sight of yersilf?”

“No; I shall drop down and hide, for if they noted that you had me for a passenger they might smell a rat, but would think nothing of seeing you three, for they know you travel together.”

As the launch drew near the opening, Alvin slackened her speed still more until she was not going faster than five or six miles an hour. There was an abundance of sea room and he curved into the passage with his usual skill. The four peered intently forward and had to wait only a minute or two when the boat had progressed far enough to give them a full view of the crescent-like cove, which extended backward for several hundred yards and had an expansion of perhaps four hundred feet. In the very middle was the islet, in the form of an irregular oval, containing altogether barely an acre. As has been said, it was made up of clay and sand with not a tree or shrub growing, and only a few scattered leaves of grass, but there was no sign of life on or about it.

Alvin sheered the boat close to the shore, and continued slowly moving. A glance downward into the crystal current showed that the depth was fully twenty feet, so that it was safe for the largest craft to moor against the bank.

“Here’s where the Water Witch lay,” said Alvin. “Do you wish to land, Mr. Calvert?”

He was standing up and scrutinizing the little plot as they glided along the shore, but discovered nothing of interest.

“No; there’s no call to stop; we may as well go back.”

“Do ye obsarve that six-masted schooner wid its nose poked under the bushes in the hope of escaping notice?”

As Mike Murphy asked the question he pointed to the southern shore of the inlet, where all saw the little rowboat in which Detective Calvert had visited the spot and which had been used later for a similar purpose by Alvin and Chester. It was drawn up so far under the overhanging limbs that only the stern was in sight. It seemed to be exactly where it had been placed by the boys after they were through with it.

It was on the tip of Alvin’s tongue to refer to the incident and to ask something in the way of explanation from their companion. Instead of doing so, the latter surprised both by saying:

“That must belong to somebody who lives in the neighborhood.”

The remark sounded strange to our young friends and both remained silent waiting for him to say more, but he did not. He sat down again, facing the Sheepscot, and lighted one of his big black cigars. He crossed his legs like a man of leisure who was not concerned by what had occurred or was likely to occur.

The incident impressed Alvin and Chester unfavorably. Mike, not having been with them at the time, knew nothing of it. To each of the former youths came the disquieting questions:

“Does he believe we did not know him that night? Does he think neither of us suspected what he did? Is he what he pretends to be?”

These queries opened a field of speculation that was endless, and the farther they plunged into it the more mystified they became. Alvin would never stoop to ask favors of this man. He was trying to aid him in carrying out a good purpose, and he must “be on the level,” or the Captain would have nothing to do with him or his plans.

“The first proof I get that he is playing double,” muttered Alvin, “I’ll order him off the boat and never let him set foot on it again, and, if he belongs to that gang of post office robbers, I’ll do everything I can to have him punished.”

One of the most discomforting frames of mind into which any person can fall is to see things which make him distrust the loyalty of one upon whom he has depended. It might be Alvin Landon was mistaken and Stockham Calvert was in reality a Pinkerton detective whose sole aim was to bring these criminals to justice; but, as I have shown, the full truth was still to be learned.

And Chester Haynes’ feelings were the same as those of his chum. He glanced at the man who was puffing his perfecto, and wondered who he really was and what was to be the end of this curious adventure upon which he and Alvin had entered.

It was a brief run out to the Sheepscot, and the Deerfoot headed up the river again toward Wiscasset. A steam launch was seen off to the left and a catboat skimmed in the same direction with our friends. Both were well over toward Westport, the left-hand bank, and slight attention was given them.

The Deerfoot had not reached the upper end of Barter Island when Alvin from his place as steerer called out:

“That looks like the boat we are hunting for.”

Running closer in to the right shore than the Deerfoot, a second boat was visible whose similarity of appearance caused astonishment. The bows of the two being pointed toward each other, the view was incomplete at first, but since the speed of each was all of ten miles an hour, they rapidly came opposite. Alvin sheered to the left, so as to make an interval of a hundred yards between them. Chester had caught up the binoculars and kept watch upon the launch, his companions doing what they could without the aid of any instrument.

“It’s the Water Witch!” said Chester excitedly.

A minute before he did so, Detective Calvert quietly slipped from his seat to the floor, removed his hat and cautiously peered over the taffrail. But he did not cease smoking his huge cigar, and it struck Alvin when he looked around that his head was high enough to be in plain sight of anyone watching from the other craft.

Mike Murphy caught the stir of the moment.

“How many passengers do ye obsarve on the same frigate? It seems to me there be only two.”

“That is all that are visible,” replied Chester, holding the glass still leveled.

“Thin they must be them two that we had the shindy wid the ither night!”

“Undoubtedly; in fact I recognize the one you pointed out at Boothbay.”

“And the ither must be the ither one.”

“There is every reason to believe so.”

“Thin——I say, Captain,” said the agitated Mike, turning to Alvin, “would ye be kind enough to run up alongside that ship?”

“Why do you wish me to do that?”

“I wish—that is—I wud like to shake hands wid that gintleman and ask him how his folks was whin he last heerd from them. Just a wee bit of friendly converse betwaan two gintlemen—that’s all. Come now, Cap, be obliging,” continued Mike, in a wheedling tone which did not deceive his superior officer.

“I faal a sort of liking for the young gintleman and should be much pleased if ye would give me a chance to have a few frindly words wid him—I say, Cap, ye’re losing vallyble time, fur we’re passing each ither fast.”

“No, Mike—not to-day; I have no objection to your having a little ‘conversation’ with Mr. Noxon or his companion, but this isn’t the right way to go about it.”

“I hope ye didn’t suspict that I had any intintion of saying harsh wurruds to them, Cap!” protested the Irish youth, in grieved tones.

“Not words particularly, but there would be enough rough acts to make things lively. Chester, let me have the glasses, while you take the wheel for a few minutes.”

They hastily exchanged places, and steadying his position, Alvin pointed the instrument at the receding launch. Detective Calvert still knelt on the floor and peeped over the side of the boat. He did not ask for the binoculars nor did the owner offer them to him.

Suddenly Alvin slipped down beside his friend in front and passed him the instrument, as he resumed the wheel. While doing so, he whispered in a voice so low that no one else could hear what he said:

“Look just behind the fellow who is steering. He’s Noxon, I’m sure! Study closely and let me know whether you see anything suspicious.”

Wondering to what he referred, Chester complied. While doing his best to learn what his friend meant the latter whispered again:

“If you see anything, be careful to let no one besides me know what it is.”

Chester nodded, with the glasses to his eyes. The opportunity for scrutiny was rapidly diminishing. Chester held the binoculars level but a minute when he lowered them again. The commonest courtesy compelled him to offer them to the detective.

“Maybe you can discover something,” remarked the youth as he passed them over. The posture of the man gave him the best chance he could ask, and he carefully studied the receding boat until it was so far off that it was useless to continue.

“Did you notice anything special?” asked Chester.

“I saw nothing but those two young men, with whom as I learn from the Captain he had an affray some nights ago.”

Chester leaned over and whispered to Alvin:

“I saw it plainly.”

“What?”

“A man crouching down among the seats as Calvert did and peering over like him.”