Kitabı oku: «The Boy Pilot of the Lakes: or, Nat Morton's Perils», sayfa 8
CHAPTER XXII
AFTER BUMSTEAD
"Now then," said Nat cheerfully, when he and the youth he had saved from suicide were safely in the young pilot's cabin, "what is the matter? I don't want to pry into your affairs, but I would like to help you. If I can't, perhaps I can get some one who can. I know Mr. Weatherby or Captain Turton would be glad to aid you."
"You are of much kindness to me," replied the other, while he tried to regain control of his feelings. "My name is Hugo Kesterberg. I used to live in New York, where I did work in a German importing house. I have been in dis country not long, so I speak not der language so goot."
"I can understand you very well," said Nat.
"I haf a good place, und I am learning der business," went on young Kesterberg, "ven an uncle of mine, in der Vaterland, he die, und leave me vat you call legs – legs easy."
"Legacy," put in Nat.
"Yes, dot is him, legacy. Your American vords are so hard to speak right. Vell, he leaves me some money, but I am a such foolish fellow. Instead of putting my legs easy – I mean legacy – in der bank, I start in to have a goot time – I am vat you call a sport. I treat all my friends, und I get in vid a sporty crowd. I buy goot clothes, und I have lots of fun.
"Pretty soon, not long after I gets my legacy, der head of der firm vere I work, he say dey no longer needs me, for you see I am foolish, und I no longer look after my vork. But dot I lose my job make me not for to care. I still haf plenty of monies left, und I haf more good times."
"Then what is the trouble, if you have plenty of money?" asked Nat. "The trouble with most people is that they haven't got enough."
"Dot's me – exactly!" exclaimed Hugo. "I got to gambling und playing der races, und yesterday I found I haf not enough left, after I had been traveling about for some time, to pay my board for vun veek, in a decent place. I buys me a ticket on dis boat, for as far a distance as I haf money, und I decide I vill end it all. Und so I vould, only you stop me."
He added the last bitterly.
"Yes, I'm glad I stopped you, and you'll be glad too, before long," declared Nat firmly. "Why, you're no worse off than you were before. You had a lot of money, and you had a good time with it. Now you'll have to go back to work again."
"Ach! Dot's vat you Americans call der rubber," said the German.
"The rubber?" repeated Nat, a bit puzzled.
"I mean der rub – dot's vere der shoes nabs me – I mean pinch. I can't go back to my old place, und I don't know how to get vork in any odder place. Dere is no use for me to live. I makes an end to myself, ven ve gets to der port."
"No, you won't!" declared Nat. "If you don't promise not to try to commit suicide, for at least a week, I'll inform the police about you, as soon as we land, and they'll lock you up. It's against the law to take your own life or attempt it. If you wait a week you'll be all over the notion."
"A man's life iss his own – he can do vat he likes mit it."
"The law doesn't say so," replied Nat, who had gained his information from the newspapers.
"Vell, der law is wrong! I takes my own life!"
"Then you'll be arrested as soon as the boat lands."
"Arrest a Kesterberg!" exclaimed the German. "Dot vould be a disgrace."
"So would committing suicide."
The youth started. Evidently he had not thought of it in that light before.
"Vell, I promise you – for vun week."
"That's all right," said Nat briskly. "I'm satisfied. I know if you wait that long you'll be in a better frame of mind. Besides, I think I can help you. I'll speak to the captain and to Mr. Weatherby about you."
"But not about – not about – what I – "
"Oh, no, I'll say nothing about that," promised Nat. "But I know they can help you. Captain Turton is acquainted with lots of firms, and maybe he can get you a place with one of them."
"Den my troubles would be ofer," declared Hugo. "If I gets me a place to vork, nefer again vill I be so foolish again. If my people in Germany heard of vot I did, dey vould nefer forgive me."
"They're not likely to hear of it," said Nat. "Now you stay here until you feel better. We're going to land pretty soon, and I'll be busy. This evening I'll speak to the captain about you."
"But my ticket only takes me to dis port, und I haf no more money. I can't stay aboard."
"I'll fix that all right," declared the young pilot, who was beginning to feel quite important over what he had done, which, indeed, was no light matter, for he had given hope to a hopeless youth.
Captain Turton readily agreed to do what he could for Hugo Kesterberg, when, that evening, after all the freight and passengers had been discharged, Nat told as much of the case as it was necessary for the commander to know.
"I think I know a firm in Detroit that would be glad of his services," he said. "I'll give him a letter of recommendation to them, when we reach there, which will be at the end of the week."
"But – er – he hasn't any money left to pay his fare there," said Nat.
"That will be all right," replied Captain Turton. "I guess it won't break the company to give him a pass and his meals for a few days. Besides, I'm not going to let you get ahead of me in doing him a good turn."
Three days later, when the Mermaid reached Detroit, Hugo Kesterberg bade Nat, and his other friends aboard the ship, good-by. With a note of recommendation to a big firm, he could face the future in better spirits. Some time later Nat had a letter from the German youth, stating that he had a better position than the one in New York, and was doing well. The missive was full of thanks to Nat and Captain Turton.
Detroit was as far as the Mermaid was to go on the present voyage, and after taking on a big cargo, and quite a number of passengers, she turned about and began to traverse her way over Lake Huron again.
Captain Turton went ashore at the first port they made, after leaving Detroit, and when he came aboard again, he sought out Nat. The captain's manner betrayed some excitement.
"I have some news for you," he said to the young pilot.
"Am I going to be arrested again?"
"Not exactly. This concerns your enemy, Bumstead."
"Have they got him? Did he give up the money?"
"No, but I heard from a captain friend of mine ashore a little while ago, that the Spray is docked at Cove Point, about fifty miles above here. She had to lay up for repairs. She's an old boat and her engines are continually getting out of order."
"Are we going to stop there?" asked Nat eagerly.
"No, but I know what you are thinking of. There is a chance to cause the arrest of the mate, and here is my plan. You can take a train from here to Cove Point. The railroad runs quite near there. You have the warrant, made out by the police. Take that with you, and the authorities in Cove Point will make the arrest, I'm sure."
"But how can I get back to this boat?"
"I'll tell you. There is a train that leaves here at midnight, which will get you to Cove Point about two o'clock in the morning. The police are up at all hours. You can get them to serve the warrant at once, for Bumstead will probably be aboard the Spray at her dock. Then, after he is safe in jail, you can hire a boat to take you out, and I'll pick you up as I pass. I'll be on the watch for you to-morrow morning."
The plan was very feasible, and Nat thanked the captain for his thoughtfulness. He made his arrangements hurriedly, and began to have visions of recovering the money that was rightfully his.
"Be out about two miles beyond the point at about nine o'clock to-morrow morning," the captain called to him, as Nat left. "That's the time I'll pass, and as close in as I can run."
"I'll be there waiting for you," promised Nat.
"Good luck!" called the pilot. "I hope you get him. That Bumstead is getting to be as slippery as an eel."
"I'll get him, if he's there," declared the lad.
Then he hurried to the railroad station to get his ticket, for it was after ten o'clock, and the depot was some distance from the water front.
CHAPTER XXIII
BUMSTEAD ESCAPES
When Nat found himself in the train, speeding toward Cove Point, he had a chance to think how he should proceed after he arrived. He anticipated no difficulty in getting a policeman to go to the boat and arrest the mate.
"Maybe Sam Shaw will want to take a hand, and fight me," thought Nat. "Well, if he does, I'll give him all that's coming to him."
The train was a slow one, and made a number of stops. When about half way on the journey there was a delay, caused by the wreck of a freight train, and it was nearly three o'clock when Nat arrived at the railroad station in Cove Point. This was a small town, depending for its existence on what traffic passed up and down the lake, and what little patronage came to it over the railroad.
"Where's the police station?" asked Nat of a sleepy man at the depot.
"They don't allow tramps to sleep in it any more," was the rather queer answer.
"Tramps? Who asked anything about tramps?" replied Nat. "I don't want to sleep there."
"Oh, excuse me," said the agent, opening his sleepy eyes a bit wider. "I didn't take a good look at you. I thought you were a tramp. Lots of 'em come in on our trains, and want to spend the night at the police station. They'd let themselves be arrested because the sheriff used to get so much a prisoner. But the county authorities put a stop to it. What's the matter? Some one rob you?"
"No," replied Nat, determined to keep his affairs to himself.
"Some crime been committed?" persisted the agent, for he thought it was rather unusual for a boy to be asking his way to the police station at three o'clock in the morning.
"I want to see a policeman," replied Nat, "and I thought the best place would be the station house."
"There used to be a policeman stationed here nights," went on the agent. "But he's gone now. If it was anything about the railroad I could attend to it for you."
"No, thank you. If you'll tell me where the station house is, I'll be much obliged."
The agent seemed disappointed, but he gave Nat the directions.
"I don't see what harm it would have done him to have told me," murmured the man, when Nat had gone off down the dark street. "It would help to keep me awake, if I had something like a crime or an arrest to think about. Well, I might as well doze off; it'll be two hours before the down freight is in," and he composed himself as comfortably as he could in his chair in the telegraph office.
Meanwhile, our hero managed to find the police station. Inside there was a sergeant on duty, who looked up inquiringly as Nat entered.
"Well?" he asked.
"I have a warrant for a man's arrest."
"Are you a detective from some other city? Where's your badge?" asked the sergeant suspiciously.
"No, I'm not a detective. I'm the person who made the complaint on which this warrant was issued," and Nat showed the one which had been returned by Mr. Scanlon.
The sergeant seemed impressed by the boy's business-like manner.
"Come inside," he invited, opening a gate in a railing that shut off the part of the room behind the desk. "Now tell me about it."
Nat told his tale as briefly as possible.
"And you want me to send an officer out to the ship with you, and arrest the mate?" inquired the sergeant when the young pilot had finished.
"If you will."
"Guess we'll have to, under the law. I'll be glad to help you out. It's a mean trick to take money in that fashion. Hey, George! I say, George! Get up, here's a case for you."
"What's that?" inquired a sleepy voice from a room back of the sergeant's desk.
"You've got to go out and arrest a man."
"Oh, can't somebody else go? I arrested a feller last night. I ain't going to do all the work in this police station."
"Look here, George Rosco!" called the sergeant, getting up, and going to the door of the room, where, evidently, the only policeman on duty was asleep, "you've got to get up, and go and arrest this man. There's a warrant for him, and he's charged with embezzling fifteen hundred dollars. He's mate aboard that freight steamer that's tied up here for repairs."
"Fifteen hundred dollars! Why didn't you say so at first?" exclaimed the policeman, appearing in the doorway, half dressed. "That's worth while arresting a man for. I thought it was another one of them chicken-stealing cases. Fifteen hundred dollars! I'll be ready in a jiffy! Whew! Fifteen hundred – "
The rest of what he said was lost to Nat and the sergeant, as the officer closed the door, while he dressed. When he came out he greeted Nat cordially.
"I don't mind being woke up for a case like that," he explained. "I thought it was some measly tramp case. For the last three nights I've been woke up by people whose henroosts have been robbed. I'm getting tired of it, and when the sergeant called me a while ago, I thought it was another one. You see, we've only got two policemen here, and I don't mind telling you that I do most of the arrestin' that's done. The other one – Tom Duncan – he's too lazy to arrest many. I do two to his one. I'm on night duty and he takes the day trick."
Nat could not help thinking that the night man had the easier time of it, even if he did make the most arrests.
"Now here's the warrant, George," said the sergeant. "Bring that fellow in, and we'll lock him up."
"Oh, I'll bring him in all right. He'll not get away from me. Let's see, I've got my revolver and my club. Guess I'm all right."
"You go right along with him," the sergeant directed Nat. "Point out the man you want and he'll bring him in."
"Yes, I'll get him," declared George. He started from the police station, followed by Nat. When he reached the door, the officer suddenly turned back. "Come near forgetting my badge," he said, in explanation. "It wouldn't do to arrest a man without my badge. He might think it was only a bluff. Give me my badge, sergeant."
"First you know, you'll forget your head," murmured the sergeant, as he passed over a big tin star.
"I take it off when I lay down for a nap of an evening," the policeman said to Nat. "Some of the points might stick me, and I'd get blood poisoning. You can't be too careful in this business. I knowed a policeman once – "
"Say, if you're going to arrest that man you'd better get a move on," advised the sergeant. "That boat's due to leave at daylight, I heard, and it ain't far from it now."
"All right, I'm going now. I'll be back in a little while with the prisoner. Get a cell ready for him."
"Oh, the cell will be ready when you are."
"Fifteen hundred dollars," murmured the policeman, as he and Nat went out into the night. "This will be a fine arrest. Tom Duncan will wish he made this one."
"We'd better hurry," suggested Nat. "He may escape."
"Don't worry about that. No prisoner ever got away from me," boasted the officer.
It was not far to the dock where the Spray was tied up. Even in the darkness Nat knew the boat. He wondered if the mate was aboard. Once he reached the ship, the officer's manner changed. He proceeded cautiously, and seemed to know what he was about.
"Do you know which his cabin is?" he asked of Nat, in a whisper.
"No, but I know where the mate usually sleeps aboard these boats."
"You go ahead then."
The young pilot led the way. Though he had never been aboard the Spray he thought he could find where Bumstead slept. Fortunately, they did not meet the anchor watch, who was probably asleep.
"This ought to be his cabin," said Nat, indicating one in the same relative position as that occupied by the mate aboard the Jessie Drew.
"Then I'll go in and get him," said the officer.
It was beginning to get light, a streak of dawn showing in the east. The policeman pushed open the cabin door, which was not locked.
"Is Joseph Bumstead here?" he asked in loud tones.
"That's me. What's wanted?" was the answer, and Nat recognized the mate's voice.
"Come out here," said the officer.
He backed out of the cabin, and in the growing light Nat saw that he had his revolver drawn. Wondering what could be wanted of him, Bumstead jumped out of his bunk, partly dressed.
"You're my prisoner!" suddenly exclaimed the policeman, throwing back his coat to display the big star. At the same time he grabbed the mate with one hand, and in the other leveled his weapon at him.
"What's the trouble? Is this a joke?" demanded the mate.
"You'll find it quite different from a joke," replied the officer. "I have a warrant for your arrest, sworn out by Nat Morton, charging you with the embezzlement of fifteen hundred dollars. You'll have to come with me."
At that moment the mate caught sight of Nat, who stood to one side.
"So! This is your work, eh?" he cried. "Well, I'll not go with you! You haven't got me yet!"
With a sudden motion he broke away from the officer.
"Hold on or I'll shoot!" threatened the policeman.
"Shoot then!" cried the mate.
He ran to the rail. An instant later he had mounted it, poised on the top a moment, and with a shout of defiance he leaped over the side. A splash in the water told that he had landed in the lake.
"Stop! Hold on!" yelled the officer, as he rushed to the side. "Come back or I'll shoot!"
He peered down into the water. There was no sign of the mate. By this time several members of the crew were aroused and were on the deck.
"What's the matter?" cried a voice that Nat recognized as Sam Shaw's.
"Prisoner escaped!" exclaimed the policeman. "Can you see him?" he asked of Nat, who stood beside him, in the early dawn.
The boy shook his head in disappointment.
"He's got away, I guess," he said.
"Get me a boat!" cried the officer. "I'll find him if it takes all day. Come on!"
CHAPTER XXIV
IN A COLLISION
With the increase of daylight, objects on and about the freighter became clearer. But looking over the side Nat and the policeman could see nothing of the mate. Members of the crew who had hastily leaped from their bunks began asking what the matter was. Soon the captain came from his cabin.
"They've killed my uncle!" exclaimed Sam Shaw. "That's what they did! I heard them throw him overboard. That mean Nat Morton did it! I'll have him arrested for murder!"
"Oh, dry up!" exclaimed Nat, quite put out with the unexpected turn of events.
"I'll lick you; that's what I'll do!" cried Sam, advancing on Nat with outstretched fists.
"Keep away from me!" retorted Nat. "I whipped you once, and I can do it again!"
"He didn't push your uncle overboard," said one of the crew. "He jumped."
"That's what he did," added the policeman. "He got away from me, too. Somebody get me a boat."
"What for?" asked the captain.
"Because I'm an officer of the law, and a prisoner has escaped. I had him a prisoner, all right, for I had my hand on him, but he went so sudden he got away."
"There's a boat moored alongside," said the captain, when matters had been briefly explained. "But you want to hurry. I can't lay here all day, though how I'm going to sail without a mate is more than I know."
"I'll get him for you, but I'll have to take him right away again," said the officer. "He's a criminal and a fugitive from justice."
The mate might have been almost anything, as far as any denial on his part was concerned, for not a trace of him had been seen since he jumped overboard. Sam Shaw, mean as he was, had a genuine affection for his uncle, and he was much distressed about his relative.
"He's drowned! I know he's drowned!" he exclaimed, as he walked about the deck, half crying.
"Oh, dry up!" advised Nat savagely, for he knew the mate was a good swimmer, and he had no doubt but that Bumstead had managed to reach shore, under cover of the semi-darkness, and was far enough away by this time.
Meanwhile, the policeman got into a boat and rowed about, but all to no purpose. The mate had disappeared as completely as if he was at the bottom of the lake.
"Well," said Nat, much disappointed, "that's done with. It's a failure. I guess I'd have done better if I'd gone alone, and not taken the policeman with me, though he meant well enough. Now I'd better get some breakfast and then arrange to have some one row me out to meet the Mermaid."
He told the officer that he would have to leave.
"Very well," replied the policeman. "You may go, but I'll never give up hunting for my prisoner. It's the first time one ever got away from me, and I'm not going to stand it. I'll keep hunting until I find him, if it takes all day or a whole year. You had better leave me your address, and as soon as I arrest him, I'll let you know."
"I don't believe that would do any good. I travel about so, on the boat, that I can't tell just what my address will be. You had better give me the warrant; I may run across him at some other port."
Rather reluctantly the policeman gave up the legal document.
"I wish I had handcuffed him at first," he said. "Then he couldn't have gotten away, and if he jumped in the water he would have been drowned."
"I wouldn't care about having that happen," said Nat.
"Me either, though I hate to let a prisoner get away. But I'll catch him yet, you see."
And when Nat had gone ashore, eaten his breakfast in a little restaurant, and was being rowed out to be picked up by the Mermaid, the policeman was still searching about the dock and adjacent shore for the missing mate.
Captain Turton and the pilot sympathized with Nat over the failure of his mission, but they said Bumstead was sure to be arrested sooner or later.
"He'll probably transfer to some other boat, now," said Nat.
"Very likely," answered Mr. Weatherby. "He knows you are after him, and it's going to be harder to arrest him."
The Mermaid proceeded on her way, and for some time Nat was so occupied with his work, for there was a great increase in passenger traffic, that he almost forgot about the rascally mate and the stolen money.
Meanwhile, as my young readers have probably surmised, Bumstead had safely reached shore and had arranged to keep out of the way of officers of the law. The sudden appearance of the policeman in his cabin had been the first intimation that there was a warrant for his arrest, and that Nat knew of his appropriation of the fifteen hundred dollars belonging to Mr. Morton.
It is true the mate had fancied Nat was suspicious, after the lad had seen the wallet, and questioned him about it, but, when some time passed, and nothing resulted, the scoundrel thought that Nat either had his suspicions lulled, or did not know how to go about recovering the money. That a previous plan to arrest him had failed, by his shift of vessels, the mate never dreamed.
Now he knew he must make another change. It would not be safe to remain aboard the Spray. Accordingly, when he had reached shore, after his sensational leap for liberty, he sought refuge with a man he knew at Cove Point. He remained there until he heard that Nat had left, and that the policeman, very reluctantly, had given up the search.
Then the mate sent for his nephew, and the pair took what money was coming to them and left town. About two weeks after this the mate secured a place on the freighter Liberty Bell, which plied up and down Lake Huron.
"Uncle Joe, what did that officer want?" asked Sam Shaw of his relative, one day, when he happened to mention their former place aboard the Spray. "Was it in connection with that charge you made against Nat before the pilot board?"
"Well – er – yes – that was it. They wanted my testimony."
"Why don't you give it to them? I'd like to see that Morton chap locked up. How did he escape being sent to jail on your charge?"
"I don't exactly know," replied the mate. "I guess he is only out on bail."
"I hope they send him to prison for a long time. I can't bear him, he's so stuck up, thinking he's a regular pilot."
"Well, I'll fix him," murmured the mate. He did not want his nephew to know about the accusation Nat had made, for he was afraid Sam might, unconsciously, betray him. Nor was the mate altogether easy regarding the charge he had made before the pilot board. He had read in the papers about that case, and how he was wanted for contempt of court. He thus had to face two charges, and he knew he must be very careful when he went ashore, lest he be arrested.
"We'll meet the vessel that Morton fellow is on, this trip, Uncle Joe," went on Sam.
"How's that?"
"Well, we're going to Bay City, and the Mermaid is coming to Detroit, according to the papers."
"Is that so?" asked the mate, suddenly interested. "I wonder where we'll pass her?"
"About Ludlow's Island," answered Sam, who was developing a good knowledge of the lakes.
"Ludlow's Island," repeated the mate. "The channel there is quite narrow. We'll have to pass quite close."
"Do you think he'll see you, Uncle Joe?"
"No – of course not. What does it matter? I'm not keeping out of his way. I had certain reasons for not wanting that officer to take me to court; that's why I leaped overboard that time."
"Oh," answered Sam, who had not heard the explanation given by Nat and the policeman.
"So we'll pass his vessel quite close," murmured the mate, when his nephew had left him. "That's my chance. If I can be left in charge of the wheel I think I can make Nat Morton wish he had never interfered with me. Let's see, we ought to get to Ludlow's Island to-morrow night. I hope it's dark or foggy."
Meanwhile, all unconscious of the perils in store for him, Nat was, that same day, guiding the vessel of which he was now officially the assistant pilot toward Detroit.
"It's going to be a thick night," said Mr. Weatherby, as Nat relieved him in the pilot-house, the evening of the day after the conversation set down above between Sam Shaw and his uncle. "I think there will be quite a fog before morning. Don't take any chances. If you're in doubt call me, but I'd like you to try your hand at taking the ship past Ludlow's Island. It's one of the worst places in the lake, and when you've been through that, in a fog, you're almost entitled to a pilot's license."
"I'll try it, Mr. Weatherby."
"That's the way to talk."
As the night came on the fog increased, until Nat decided he would slow down to half speed. The bell and whistle were kept going at regular intervals, and two men were stationed in the bow as lookouts.
It was close to midnight when Nat, who had decided to ask to be relieved, for he was a little doubtful of his ability under such bad conditions, saw through the haze another vessel approaching. He was in the narrowest part of the channel.
"There isn't time to send word to Mr. Weatherby now," he thought. "I'll wait until I pass that ship. Then I'll go below, for I'm getting nervous here."
The two vessels were approaching nearer and nearer to each other. If Nat had been aware that the ship he was about to pass was the one on which was his enemy, the mate, doubtless he would have been more nervous than he was.
"He seems to be crowding too close over this way," thought Nat. "Guess I'll give him a caution signal."
He pulled the whistle wire sharply. Short blasts came forth from the Mermaid's hoarse siren. To Nat's surprise the other vessel, instead of keeping away from him, in the narrow channel, seemed to be coming closer.
"Doesn't he know enough to keep away, and on his own course?" said the young pilot half aloud.
He waited with an anxiously beating heart, and at the same time looked around to see if anybody else was near.
"Oh, if only Mr. Weatherby was here now!" he told himself. Never had he missed the old pilot so much as at this moment. For one instant he thought of yelling for assistance, but knew it would be useless, for his voice would not carry far enough. He was in sole charge and must do the best he could.
"Perhaps that other pilot is drunk," he murmured, and then shut his teeth hard. He was "up against it good and hard," and he realized it only too well. He trembled in spite of himself, and an icy chill began to creep up and down his backbone.
He gave another signal. Then, as he watched, he saw the prow of the other vessel turn toward him.
"He's going to ram me!" exclaimed Nat.
Quickly he gave another signal, and then he rang for full speed astern. But it was too late. With a crash the other vessel was upon him, though the result was different from what might have been expected.
The Mermaid was a steel boat, while the Liberty Bell was an old wooden one. Instead of the bow of the latter crashing into the hull of the passenger steamer, the bow of the freight boat crumpled up like paper, being smashed into kindling wood up as far as the pilot-house, part of which was demolished.
There was a confused ringing of bells and blowing of whistles, and then both vessels came to a stop.
