it meant to be astounded; they were soon to know what it felt like to feel haunted, to find themselves assailed by dread after dread. Undoubtedly it was merciful for them that they could not, at this moment, peer behind the curtain of the immediate future.
So, ignorant of what fate and destiny held in store for them, they were mainly intent, now, upon intercepting at the right point the big liner cruising swiftly southward.
In another hour they made out smoke on the horizon where Skipper Tom judged the “Constant” to be. Later the spars of the steamship were visible through the marine glasses. Then the hull appeared. A few minutes later Captain Tom ran the “Restless” dashingly in alongside the great black hull of the liner, along whose starboard rail a hundred or more passengers had gathered.
Turning the wheel over to Hank, Captain Tom Halstead snatched up the megaphone as the larger vessel slowed down.
“‘Constant,’ ahoy!” bellowed the young skipper. “This is the yacht ‘Restless,’ sent to receive your injured passenger, Clodis.”
“‘Restless’ ahoy!” came the response from the liner’s bridge. “We’ll lower our starboard side gangway, if you can come alongside safely.”
The Motor Boat Club boys were at the threshold of their strangest, wildest succession of adventures!
CHAPTER II
SOME OF THE MYSTERY UNRAVELED
“IF we can come alongside safely,” echoed Hank, disgustedly. “I’ll show ’em – and in a smooth swell of sea like this, too!”
As the big steamship lay to, Hank steered in until Captain Tom, boathook in hand, made fast temporarily. Then Hank hurried up with a line with which he took a fast hitch.
“Hey, there, you’ll pull away our side gangway,” roared down a mate, whose head and uniform cap showed over the rail above.
“You don’t know us,” grinned Joe Dawson, quietly.
By this time Tom Halstead was running lightly up the steps of the gangway. He reached the small platform above, then passed to the deck.
He was met by Captain Hampton, who inquired:
“Where’s your sailing master, young man?”
“Right before you, Captain.”
“You?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Who are your owners?” demanded Captain Hampton, much astonished by Tom’s quiet assurance.
“I’m captain and half-owner of the ‘Restless,’ sir,” Halstead continued, still smiling at the other captain’s very evident astonishment. “The other owner is the engineer, Joe Dawson, my chum.”
Captain Hampton swallowed something very hard. Several of the passengers were smiling. A man who has followed the sea for years knows the capacity and efficiency that boys often display on shipboard, but it is unusual to find a boy acting as master of a yacht.
However, there was the “Restless,” and there was Tom Halstead in the captain’s uniform. These were facts that could not be disputed.
“You have a passenger, a Mr. Clodis, that you want to have me take off?” resumed Tom.
“Yes; you have come for him, then?”
“Not only that, but Mr. Seaton, the gentleman who has our boat in charter, has very urgently ordered us to bring Mr. Clodis ashore; also his baggage complete, and any and all papers that he may have brought aboard.”
“You have a comfortable berth on your boat?”
“Several of them,” Tom answered.
“Then I’ll have some of my men make the transfer at once. Our ship’s surgeon, Dr. Burke, will also go over the side and see that Mr. Clodis is made as comfortable as possible for his trip ashore.”
“Steward Butts will show your men to the port stateroom, aft, sir.”
A mate hurried away to give the order to Dr. Burke. A boatswain was directed to attend to having all of Mr. Clodis’s baggage go over the side.
“Come to my stateroom, sir, if you please,” requested Captain Hampton, and Tom followed.
“When you take a man with a fractured skull ashore, the authorities may want some explanation,” declared the ‘Constant’s’ sailing master, opening his desk. “Here is a statement, therefore, that I have prepared and signed. Take it with you, Captain–”
“Halstead,” supplied Tom.
The motor boat boy glanced hurriedly through the document.
“I see you state it was an accident, Captain Hampton,” went on Halstead, lowering his voice. “Our charter-man, Mr. Seaton, intimated that he believed it might have been a deliberate assault. Have you anything that you wish to say on this point, sir?”
“I don’t believe it was an assault,” replied the ship’s master, musingly. Halstead’s quick eye noted that Hampton appeared to be a sturdy, honest sea-dog. “Still, Captain Halstead, if you would like to question the steward who found Mr. Clodis at the foot of the main saloon companionway–”
“Have you made the investigation thoroughly, sir?”
“I think so – yes.”
“Then nothing is likely to be gained, Captain, by my asking any questions of a steward you have already questioned.”
The mate came back to report that Mr. Clodis had been carried over the side, and that his baggage had been taken aboard the “Restless.”
“I know you don’t want a liner held up,” Tom went on, slipping Captain Hampton’s report of the accident into his pocket. “I’ll go over the side, sir, as soon as you can ascertain whether Mr. Clodis had any papers that ought to be sent ashore with him.”
“There are none in the injured man’s pockets,” replied the steamship’s sailing master, “and none were deposited with the purser. So, if there are any papers, they must be in Mr. Clodis’s trunk or bag.”
“Thank you, sir. Then I’ll bid you good-bye and hurry over the side,” said Halstead, energetically.
As they stepped out of the stateroom a passenger who had been lingering near stepped up.
“Oh, one moment,” said Captain Hampton, suddenly. “Captain Halstead, this gentleman is Mr. Arthur Hilton. Since leaving New York he has received some wireless news that makes him anxious to return. He wants to go ashore with you.”
Arthur Hilton had stepped forward, holding out his hand, which Tom took in his own. Mr. Hilton was a man of about thirty, smooth-faced, with firm set jaws. Though evidently not a Spaniard, he had the complexion usual to that race. His dark eyes were keen and sharp, though they had a rather pleasant look in them. He was slender, perhaps five feet eight inches tall, and, although his waist and legs were thin, he had broad, rather powerful looking shoulders.
“You can set me ashore, can’t you, young man, for a ten-dollar bill?” inquired Hilton.
“Certainly,
