The Quest of the Silver Swan: A Land and Sea Tale for Boys by W. Bert Foster - HTML preview

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CHAPTER XVII
 
HOW THE OMNIPRESENT WEEKS PROVES HIS RIGHT TO THE TERM

HAMPERED as he was by his wooden leg, it was several moments before the old sailor could get upon his feet, and the festive Mr. Brady, maddened and almost blinded by the blow he had received in the first of the fracas, would have pitched into him had not Brandon threatened the fellow with one of the heavy chairs with which the room was furnished.

“I’ll make dis the sorriest day er your life, ye bloomin’ big brute!” declared Mr. Brady, holding one hand to his bruised face, and shaking the other fist at the sailor. “I’ll have ye jugged—that’s wot I’ll do——”

And just then he stopped, for in the doorway leading to the bar room stood Adoniram Pepper, flushed and breathless, and behind him the burly forms of two blue-coated policemen.

“Thank goodness, the boy is safe!” gasped the little merchant. “Are you hurt, Caleb?”

“Some shaken up, but that’s all, shipmate,” declared the mate of the Silver Swan. “I got here just in time to keep that brute Leroyd from choking the lad to death.”

“Mercy! and where is he now?”

“Skipped, I reckon,” responded Caleb briefly, brushing the sawdust off his clothing.

“But he’s stolen the papers,” said Brandon.

“Not the papers your father gave Caleb?” cried the little man. “He must be captured at once!”

“Yes, he robbed me,” said Caleb slowly; “but whether he got anything o’ much value or not is another question. Let’s get out o’ here, ’Doniram, and take account o’ cargo.”

Just here the policemen crowded into the room.

“Has your man got away, sir?” one of them asked Mr. Pepper.

“I’m afraid he has, officer—unless you want this fellow arrested, Caleb?” indicating the saloon keeper.

At this Brady began to storm and rave disgracefully.

“Come, quit that, Brady!” commanded officer Mullen. “You’re deep in this, I’ve no doubt. You want to walk a chalk line now, or I’ll have your license taken away. D’ye understand?”

Mr. Brady subsided at this threat, and the party filed out.

“It’s all right now, officer,” said Adoniram, slipping something into Mr. Mullen’s hand. “We won’t trouble you further. If anything more comes of it, I’ll step around and see the captain myself.”

The two policemen nodded and Mr. Pepper led his friends back to his office.

On the way Brandon explained his previous connection with the villain Leroyd, and recounted what had occurred at the New England Hotel before Caleb’s timely appearance.

“Well, I reckon you were just what Leroyd told you—a little too fresh,” was the comment of the mate of the Silver Swan. “’Twas only by luck that ye warn’t garroted by that scoundrel. There’s been more than one man gone into that dive that never come out arterwards, now I tell ye.”

“You are wrong, Caleb,” declared Mr. Pepper confidently “It was not luck—’twas Providence.”

“Mebbe you’re right, old man,” returned the mate. “Now, lad, come in here and tell us all about yourself before we do anything further. We want to get a thorough understanding o’ the case.”

They had arrived at the shipping merchant’s office, but it was locked and Mr. Pepper had to use his own private pass key.

“Weeks has gone out,” the old gentleman explained, ushering them in. “It’s his dinner hour.”

“I’m glad the swab’s out of the way,” growled the sailor. “I don’t see what you keep that prying, sneaking rascal about here for any way. He’ll do you some damage some time, ’Doniram.”

“I—I should dislike to discharge him,” said the old gentleman gently. “He—he is an unfortunate fellow——”

“Unfortunate!” snorted the mate in disgust.

“Yes, unfortunate, Caleb. Even his face is against him. Who would want such a looking fellow around an office? And office work is all he knows how to do. Marks wouldn’t keep him down to the other office, so I had to take him up here.”

“Had to!”

Caleb stared at his old friend in pitying surprise.

“’Doniram,” he said, “you—make—me—weary!”

Then he shook his head sadly and dropped heavily into a chair he had formerly occupied near the merchant’s desk.

“Come,” he said, turning to Brandon, holding out his hand affectionately, “come and sit down here beside me, my lad. We want to know each other better—you and I—and I’ve got a good deal to say to ye.

“Your father’s last words to me was ‘Remember, Cale!’ an’ they referred to the fac’ that he’d left me in charge o’ you—an’ of your property. An’ I’m rememberin’, though that hospital business delayed me a good bit.”

“But, Caleb,” said the merchant nervously, “what will you do about those—those diamonds,” and he looked at Brandon smilingly, “now that that scamp has stolen the captain’s papers?”

“Diamonds?” echoed Brandon.

“Aye, diamonds—lashin’s of ’em!” the sailor declared earnestly. “If yer father was ter be believed—an’ you know whether or not to believe him as well as I—there’s di’monds hid aboard that brig, enough to make you a rich man, my lad.”

“But the papers?” repeated Mr. Pepper.

“Blast the papers!” exclaimed the sailor, slapping his thigh impatiently. “They don’t amount to a row of pins.”

“But they’ll tell that Leroyd all about the treasure and just where to find it,” said Brandon.

“And you won’t know where to look for it aboard the Silver Swan,” Mr. Pepper chimed in.

“I won’t hey?” responded Caleb with a snort of disgust. “Sure of that, be ye?”

“I think I know where father would place the gems for safe keeping,” said Brandon, slowly.

“Yes, an’ I reckon I know, too,” the mate declared. “There’s a sliding panel in the cabin—eh, lad?”

Brandon nodded acquiescence.

“Yes, that’s it,” went on the sailor; “it come to me just now when I was a-thinkin’ of the matter. We useter keep our private papers in that ’ere hole in the bulkhead. It’s the third panel on the port side front the companionway.”

“Sh!” exclaimed the merchant, “suppose somebody should overhear you.”

“Oh, that sneak Weeks isn’t here,” replied Caleb carelessly. “You don’t have anybody else working for you here who would snoop like him, do you, ’Doniram?”

The merchant shook his head with a mild smile.

“Well, then,” said the mate of the Silver Swan, “we can get down to business. We understand each other, eh, lad? Ye’ll put yourself under our care, an’ ’Doniram an’ I’ll see you through this thing.”

“I’m only too glad to have your help,” cried Don warmly. “Alone I can do nothing; but with you to help me, Mr. Wetherbee——”

“Drop that!” thundered Caleb. “Don’t you ‘mister’ me, blast yer impudence! I’m Cale Wetherbee to you, as I was to yer father.”

Then he added more mildly:

“You can count on me, Don. And you can count on Pepperpod, here, every time, eh?” and he nodded to the ship owner.

“That you can, Don,” rejoined Mr. Pepper. “And already I have a vessel I can place at your disposal. It is the whaleback steamer I spoke of this morning. You shall have her and go in quest of the Silver Swan.”

“A whaleback, hey?” repeated Caleb quickly, with a doubtful shake of his head. “I don’t know much about them new fangled things.”

“Well, you shall before long,” Mr. Pepper declared. “With her you can beat any of these cruisers to the brig, and get the diamonds before they blow her sky high.

“Now, let us go out to lunch; it is long past my regular hour,” he continued. “I will close the office for the day and you must both go home with me. Wait, I’ll telephone to Marks.”

“Let me git my clo’es brushed before we go up town, ’Doniram,” exclaimed Caleb, in sudden haste. “I’ve got sawdust all over me.”

“All right,” the merchant responded, giving the call for the wareroom office (it was a private line); “you’ll find a whisk broom in that wardrobe there. Don can brush you.”

The sailor arose and walked over to the wardrobe.

“Dem the thing! how it sticks,” he remarked impatiently, tugging at the handle.

Then he exerted his great strength and the door flew open with surprising suddenness, and with it, to the startled amazement of the entire party, came the red haired clerk, Alfred Weeks, clinging vainly to the inner knob.

The momentum of his exit fairly threw him across the small room, where he dropped into a chair which happened to stand handy, gazing, the picture of fright, at the infuriated sailor.