Chapter 9

Clyde and Ray Prisoners.

James T. Leeds, broker, sat upon the veranda of the seaside hotel, with his feet on the railing and his chair tilted back.

He was at peace with himself and with all the world. In fact, the world had been treating him nicely of late. His "flyers" in Wall Street and in the wheat market had been successful. He had been making money rapidly, and this is why he smiled as he lighted his cigar.

Mr. Leeds liked the little seaside town, and was sure to drop in upon it as soon as the warm weather set in.

It was so near New York that he could reach the city in a few minutes. He had expected to get a good deal of enjoyment out of the yacht that he had bought, but, as we have already seen, it had proved a dismal failure.

He could not learn to manage it himself, and if the water was at all rough the motion made him sick. So he had reluctantly come to the conclusion that the water had no charms for him.

Mr. Leeds was in the midst of a calculation of his profits of the next day, should Erie Railroad stock jump up a couple of points, as he confidently expected that it would do, when a boy, panting and red in the face, suddenly appeared by his side.

"Hullo, Clyde! What is the matter with you _now_?" he inquired.

And his feet came down from off the railing and the legs of the chair settled upon the plank with a thump.

"I--I want to speak to you," panted the boy.

"Well, speak away. I'm listening."

Clyde shook his head.

"No, not here," he said, with due regard to the danger of talking over private matters where an unsuspected ear might be within hearing distance. "This is very important."

"It must be," said the broker, with a little laugh. "Well, come to my room."

The broker led the way to a room that looked out upon the water.

Clyde walked to the window to see that there were no convenient porches, and then drew a chair up to the table and sat down.

"Now," said the broker, "go on."

Clyde hesitated a moment. He really did not know how to begin. Finally be got started:

"Mr. Leeds, you said to-day that you had got tired of the yacht, did you not?"

"That's what I said," replied the broker. "Did you bring me up here to tell me that?"

"You said you were going to sell the Orion, did you not?"

"No, I did not. I said I was going to smash her up. But I have thought better of that. I'm going to load her up with pitch and anchor her off in the stream and set fire to her. I am going to do that on the Fourth of July, and have a celebration all to myself. Won't that be fun?"

"I thought you would perhaps take her around to New York and sell her. If you were going to do that--"

"Oh, but I'm not going to do anything of the sort. I am not in the yacht-selling business. I wouldn't be bothered with her. But what is all this about, anyway?"

"Well, then, to come to the point, I want to buy her."

"_You_ want to buy her! Well, that _is_ a good one. Do you know what I paid for the Orion?"

"No, sir."

"Well, she cost me just one thousand dollars. How much are you willing to give for her?"

Mr. Leeds looked at the well-worn garments of the would-be purchaser and smiled.

"What will you sell her for?" asked Clyde.

"Come, now, is this a joke, or what?" grinned the broker. "Has your uncle suddenly opened his heart, or have you come into possession of your property?"

"Neither," replied the boy, gravely, "but if you will sell me the yacht on a note--"

"On a note, eh? Well, isn't this rich? What is your note worth?"

"Nothing, I know, Mr. Leeds; but it will be some day. I can't pay you now, but when I am old enough to draw a note I will pay it."

The broker looked at the boy steadily for a moment.

"Clyde, something is up," he said. "What is it?"

"It all comes out of that 'pointer' you gave me this afternoon. I am going to leave home to escape being driven away."

"Phew!" whistled the broker. "Tell me about it."

And Clyde went over the whole story from beginning to end, and gave a graphic description of the plot to send him to Australia.

"Well, this is about the worst I ever heard," was Mr. Leeds' comment, when the recital was finished. "I couldn't have believed your uncle would have gone to such extremities. Well, we must block that game. We can haul him into court and prove a conspiracy."

"No," objected Clyde, "that wouldn't do at all. Of course, my uncle would deny the whole thing, and then, when it had all blown over, off I would go."

"But what do you intend to do?"

"I believe that my father is still alive. One of the men who was with him thinks it is possible. I shall never be satisfied until I have made an investigation, and I want to take him and go to the Caribbean Sea. I thought if you would sell me the yacht on credit I would go."

"Well, I won't sell the Orion," declared the broker.

Clyde's hopeful countenance fell.

"I said I wouldn't, and I won't. But you can have her, and everything aboard of her--that is, if she is fit to go on such a cruise."

Clyde's eyes filled with tears.

"You are too good. I can't take it unless you will let me pay for it when I can."

"Nonsense! Don't talk that way. I never was good in my life, and I think it won't hurt me any to do a little thing like that. The Orion is of no use to me, and, unless you do take her, I shall run her on the rocks and set her on fire, as sure as I am alive. But what are you going to do for money? You can't go anywhere without money?"

"Ray and I have got thirty dollars between us."

"Thirty fiddlesticks! Here," and the broker pulled out a well-filled pocket-book and counted out some bills--"here are three hundred dollars. You will have to fit the yacht up for a long cruise. There! don't make any objections. I owe you something for helping me out of a bad scrape to-day. You can promise to pay me if you like, and, when you come into possession of your property, you can do so. But never mind the note. It isn't worth anything, anyway, and I can trust you, I'm sure. Now, who is this man that you say will go with you?"

"I don't know his name. Tom, the fisherman, calls him Old Ben. He was the boatswain on my father's ship."

"Well, I want to see him. Come with me."

The two strolled over to the fisherman's cabin, where Tom and Ben were found smoking their pipes and telling each other sea stories. It did not take Mr. Leeds long to come to the point, and, when the whole story had been repeated, the broker asked the fisherman whether the Orion could be relied upon to make such a trip.

"Well, there's a risk about it, of course," was the reply; "but the Orion is a mighty fine boat--mighty fine. She would stand up before a good stiff gale, and Old Ben, here, is just the man to handle her."

"Well, then, Old Ben, will you go along and run her?" asked the broker.

"Now, I ain't a holdin' out any promises that we will find the cap'n," and the old salt shook his head. "It's my opinion that the chances is all agin' it. But if the youngster wants to go, and as Tom says the boat is a good one, why, I don't mind makin' the trip. It may be there is something behind it all and that the cap'n is still alive; but, as I said--"

"I don't ask you to go for nothing, you understand," interrupted the broker.

He took out his pocket-book again and selected five twenty-dollar bills.

"You don't make more than twelve or fifteen dollars a month before the mast. Here are one hundred dollars, and if you find the cap'n, there is more for you."

"Thankee, sir," said the boatswain, with a bob of the head. "But I didn't expect that. I would have gone without it. Yes, I will go, and we will find the cap'n, if he's in the land of the livin'. If he ain't, why, then--he ain't; and that's all there is about it."

"We shall have to get off in the morning; or, rather, as soon as possible," said Clyde, delighted with the prospect. "My uncle will have me in his clutches to-morrow, and if he gets hold of me there may be trouble."

"I think that is the best way," approved the broker. "You will need some stores, but you cannot get them here. You will have to run in to New York and take them aboard."

"Yes, that's right," assented Old Ben.

"And you had better take out papers that will allow you to cruise as a yacht. I will have the Orion made over to Clyde, so he will be your owner, and you will find him a good sailor as well."

"If he is anything like his father, he will do," said the boatswain. "Well, Tom and me will overhaul the yacht, and I will go aboard at once. Just as soon as the cap'n boards us we will start."

"That's the way I like to hear a man talk," commented the broker. "I will go back to the hotel and turn the yacht over to Clyde, in writing, and bring it to the Orion myself. Now, Clyde, go and get ready, and return some time before morning."

"I will be there!"

And the happy boy sped away toward home with visions of all sorts of adventures flitting before his imagination.

He had found his father half a dozen times before he reached his room on the third floor, and broke in on his brother with his face flushed with excitement.

"Get ready, Ray," he cried.

"Get ready for what?" asked his surprised brother.

"To go to sea. We are going on a long cruise."

"Look here, Clyde Ellis, are you crazy?"

"Not a bit of it," replied Clyde, cheerily. "Listen."

And rapidly he detailed the occurrences of the day. Before he had quite finished there was a step in the hall, and a moment later Uncle Ellis appeared at the doorway.

"Not gone to bed yet?" he asked.

He seemed to be laboring under a heavy strain, and it was with difficulty that he controlled himself.

"Not yet," replied Clyde.

And his heart sunk like the mercury in the thermometer upon the approach of a cold wave, a presentiment of coming danger.

"You have been out to-night?" queried the uncle.

"Yes, sir."

"Where have you been?"

And his uncle eyed him sternly.

"I have been over to the hotel."

"Where else?"

"Oh, around town a bit!"

"I am almost afraid to trust you after what you told me this evening. After I have shown you the will to-morrow, which I will do in New York, I have no fears that you will talk; but, until then, I think it best to keep you under my eye. To-morrow you shall know all."

Clyde thought it very likely that his uncle would also be the wiser in the morning, but he did not say so.

Mr. Ellis pulled the key from the door and placed it in the lock on the outside; then he stepped out and closed the door after him. The next instant he had turned the key, and his retreating footsteps were heard along the hallway.

Clyde jumped to his feet and tried the door. It was firmly locked.

He staggered back to the bed and threw himself upon it, burying his face in his hands.

"Trapped!" he cried, bitterly. "Just when everything is ready, we are prisoners and there is no help for it!"

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

[_This story began in No. 48._]

KIDNAPPED:

or,

The Adventures of Jason Dilke.

by J. W. DAVIDSON,

Author of "Hardy & Co.," "Rob Archer's Trials," "Limpy Joe," "Harry Irving's Pluck," "Mind Before Muscle," "Squid," etc., etc.