The Motor Boat Club and The Wireless Part 33

On board there was clothing in abundance, enough to enable everyone to make at least a few changes. Now that the "Restless" could be held to a course, Hank b.u.t.ts cautiously made a small fire in the galley stove, and then stood by to watch the fire. After a while he had coffee going--this with a "cold bite" of food.

Hepton came up, bye-and-bye, to take the wheel. As he was wholly capable, Tom surrendered the helm to him, then dropped down below for some of that coffee.

"We've found out to-night what a wireless is good for," declared Joe.

"But for it, we wouldn't have kept the 'Restless' afloat and right side up through the night."

"Until we got this tow I didn't expect ever to see port again," Tom Halstead admitted, quietly. "Do you know, the worst thing folks will have against row-boats in the future will be the fact that row-boats are too small to carry a wireless installation!"

"You feel wholly safe, now, do you, captain?" demanded Powell Seaton.

"It rather seems to me that the gale has been getting heavier."

"It has," Halstead admitted. "If we were adrift, now, we probably couldn't keep right-side up for ten minutes. But give the 'Restless'

real headway, and she'll weather any gale that a liner or a wars.h.i.+p will."

"If the towing hawser should part!" shuddered Mr. Seaton.

"We'd hope to get another line across, and made fast, before we 'turned turtle,'" replied Skipper Tom.

No one could venture from below on the bridge deck without being quickly drenched. For that reason the wheel-reliefs were short. Hank, by staying right by his galley fire, was able to keep heat at which anyone coming down from the bridge deck could dry himself.

By daylight the gale and sea were lighter. For one thing, the Havana liner had carried her tow so far north that they were out of the worst of it. Half an hour after daylight the wireless operator aboard the larger craft telegraphed Joe:

"We've taken you in four miles off the town of Mocalee. You can get gasoline there. Do you want to cast off our line now?"

"Yes," flashed back Joe, after consulting Captain Halstead. "And our greatest, heartiest thanks for your fine work for us."

There was further interchange of courtesies, then the line was cast off as soon as Joe and Hank had started the twin motors going on the little that was left of the gasoline. There was no way, or need, to settle the liner's towing charges now. These could be collected later, for the "Restless" was a boat registered by the United States authorities. She could be found and libeled anywhere if her young owners failed to settle.

"Hooray! But doesn't it feel great to be moving under one's own power again!" chortled Captain Tom, as he felt the vibration of the propellers and swung the steering wheel.

Though the coast had been visible from daylight, the town of Mocalee was not in sight until the boat neared the mouth of a river. Up this stream, half a mile, nestled a quaint little Florida town, where, as one of the natives afterwards expressed it to Joe, "we live on fish in summer and sick Yankees in winter."

"We'd better get on sh.o.r.e, all hands, and stretch our legs," proposed Powell Seaton, after Skipper Tom had made the "Restless" fast at the one sizable dock of the town. "I see a hotel over yonder. I invite you all to be my guests at breakfast--on a floor that won't rock!"

"I'll stay aboard, then, to look after the boat," volunteered Hepton.

"And you can rely on me to keep a mighty sharp eye on that man, Jasper," he added, in Halstead's ear.

It was after seven o'clock in the morning when the sh.o.r.e party from the "Restless," after strolling about a little, turned toward the hotel.

As they pa.s.sed through a corridor on the way to the office Tom Halstead glanced at a red leather bag that was being brought downstairs by a negro bell-boy.

"Do you see the bag that servant has?" asked Tom, in a whisper, as he clutched Powell Seaton's arm. "Scar on the side, and all, I'd know that bag anywhere. It's the one Anson Dalton brought over the side when he boarded the 'Restless' from the 'Constant'!"

CHAPTER XXII

TOM HALSTEAD SPRINGS THE CLIMAX

"Can that fellow be here?" demanded Powell Seaton, his lips twitching.

"He must be--or else he has sent someone else with his baggage," Tom Halstead answered, in an undertone.

None of the party had paused, but had pa.s.sed on into the office.

"We've got to know," whispered Powell Seaton, tremulously.

"Then you go ahead, sir, and register us for breakfast, and I'll attend to finding out about this new puzzle."

While Mr. Seaton went toward the desk, Tom signed to Hank b.u.t.ts to follow him aside.

"About all you can do, Hank, is to get outside, not far from the door, and see whether Dalton goes out," Halstead declared, after having briefly explained the situation. "If Dalton leaves the hotel, give us word at once."

"Here, you take charge of this bag of mine, then," begged Hank, turning so that the clerk at the desk could not see.

b.u.t.ts had come ash.o.r.e in a long rain-coat drawn on over his other clothing. Now, he quickly opened a small satchel that he had also brought with him.

"That old hitching weight of yours!" cried Tom, in a gasping undertone, as he saw Hank slip that heavy iron object from the bag to a hiding place under his coat. "How on earth do you happen to have that thing with you?"

"It must have been a private tip from the skies," grinned Hank, "but I saw the thing lying in the motor room and I picked it up and slipped it into this satchel. Take the bag from me and I'll get out on the porch."

All this took place so quietly that the clerk at the desk noticed nothing. Halstead now carried the empty bag as he sauntered back to the party. But he found chance to whisper to Joe:

"Anson Dalton must be in this hotel. Hank is slipping out to watch the front of the house. Hadn't you better get around to the rear? If it happens that the fellow is about to leave here, it might be worth our while to know where he goes."

Nodding, Joe quietly slipped away. The negro with the red bag had now entered the office. The bag, however, he took over to the coat-room and left it there.

"Breakfast will be ready at any time after eight o'clock, gentlemen,"

announced the clerk.

Powell Seaton lighted a cigar, remaining standing by the desk. Tom stood close by. The door of the office opened. Anson Dalton, puffing at a cigarette, his gaze resting on the floor, entered. He was some ten feet into the room before he looked up, to encounter the steady gaze of Captain Halstead and the charter-man.

Starting ever so little, paling just a bit, Dalton returned that steady regard for a few seconds, then looked away with affected carelessness.

"Going to leave us to-day, Mr. Dalton?" inquired the clerk.

"I don't know," replied the scoundrel, almost sulkily. Then, lighting a fresh cigarette, he strolled over by one of the windows. Presently, without looking backward at the captain and charter-man of the "Restless," the fellow opened a door and stepped out onto the porch.

There he promptly recognized Hank b.u.t.ts, who stared back at him with interest.

"I wonder if Lemly is with this fellow?" whispered Halstead to his employer.

"I'm going beyond that, and wondering what the whole fact of Dalton's presence here can possibly mean," replied Powell Seaton.

The office door from the corridor opened again. Through the doorway and across the office floor stepped, with half-mincing gait, a young, fair-haired man who, very plainly, had devoted much attention to his attire.

"Where is Mr. Dalton?" demanded this immaculate youth, in a soft, rather effeminate voice that made Halstead regard him with a look of disfavor.