Chapter 2. The Scout Of The Kennebec

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_ CHAPTER II. THE SCOUT OF THE KENNEBEC

AT nine o'clock on a bright sunshiny morning in August the usual group were gathered on the dock at Squirrel Island. Some were watching the arrival and departure of the different steamers, not forgetting the little _Nellie G._, plying between that summer resort and Boothbay Harbor, some three miles distant, with calls at other islands as the passengers wished. Sailboats were getting ready to take parties out, some to fish, while others sought only the pleasure of the cruise itself. Small launches came up to the low-lying float for men and women to get on board, while others were rowed out in small boats to the anchored craft.

By and by the attention of most of the spectators was fixed upon the beautiful _Deerfoot_, which, putting out from the lower end of Southport Island opposite, was heading toward Squirrel. The picture had become familiar to all and they admired the grace and symmetry of the launch which had won the reputation of being the swiftest of its kind in those waters. It was known that she was owned by Alvin Landon, the son of a millionaire who had built a handsome bungalow on Southport, where he was expected to spend his vacation days, though, as we know, he passed precious few of them there. Alvin was holding the wheel of his boat, while directly behind him sat his chum, Chester Haynes, calmly watching their approach to the floating dock.

The third member of the crew was our old friend Mike Murphy, whose official rank was first mate. Instead of sitting among his companions, the Irish lad had gone to the stern, where he sat with his legs curled up under him tailor fashion. He could not get much farther in that direction without slipping overboard. The figure of Mike was so striking that he drew more attention than did his comrades or the boat itself. His yachting cap was cocked at a saucy angle, revealing his fiery red hair, while underneath it was his broad, crimson face, sprinkled with freckles, and his vast grin revealed his big white teeth. It will be remembered that the remainder of his costume was his ordinary civilian attire, though Captain Alvin Landon had promised him a fine suit for the following season. The time was too short to secure one for the present occasion.

Mike's good-natured grin awoke more than one responsive smile among the crowd on the dock. The universal opinion was that the youth from the Emerald Isle was so homely of countenance that he couldn't be any homelier, but at the same time none could be more popular. He knew that the eyes of nearly every one were fixed upon him and he in turn scanned the different faces, all of which were strange to him.

Alvin Landon slowed down as he approached and guided his boat among the others with the skill of a professional chauffeur weaving in and out of a procession of carriages. He gave his whole attention to this task, Chester watching the performance with the admiration he had felt many times before. But it was the people who interested Mike. Before the boat rounded to, Stockham Calvert, the detective, accompanied by Lawyer Westerfield, of New York, walked down the inclined steps to the float. Westerfield was a gentleman of culture, an authority on many questions and one of the greatest baseball fans in the country. Having secured a liberal money contribution from Calvert the night before at the Inn, he invited him to stay and witness the great struggle between the Boothbay nine and the Squirrel Islanders. Westerfield was to act as umpire, his impartiality and quickness of perception having won the confidence of all parties; but of course Calvert had to decline under the pressure of a previous engagement.

"It does a fellow good to look at that broth of a boy squatting on the stern," remarked Westerfield, while the _Deerfoot_ was still a short distance away.

"His name is Mike and he is a great favorite with every one. As yet I have not met him, but he has all the wit and humor of his people. Suppose you test him."

Nothing loath, Westerfield, who was a bit of a wag himself, called so that all heard him:

"You don't need to show a red signal light, my friend; you ought to wait until night."

Cocking his head a little more to one side, and with a slight extent of increase in the width of his grin--admitting that to be possible--Mike called back:

"Thin why have ye the _graan_ light standing there on the wharf?"

Westerfield joined in the general laugh, but came back:

"That face of yours will keep off all danger by daylight."

"And it's yer own phiz that will sarve the same purpose at night."

The laughter was louder than ever, and the pleased Calvert said to the lawyer:

"Better let him alone; he will down you every time."

But Westerfield could not refuse to make another venture. Stepping back as if in alarm from the launch, which was now within arm's reach, he feigned to be scared.

"Please don't bite me with those dreadful teeth."

Mike, who was now close to the wharf, leaped lightly upon it.

"Have no fear; the sight of yersilf has made a Joo of me."

Then as if afraid that the listeners would not catch the force of his words, he added:

"A Joo, as ye may know, doesn't ate pork."

Detective Calvert slapped the lawyer on the shoulder.

"Try him again."

"No; I have had enough." Then raising his hat and bowing in salutation, Westerfield offered his hand to the lad, who shook it warmly.

"You're too much for me, Mike. I'm proud to take off my hat to you."

"And it's me dooty to be equally respictful, as me dad said whin the bull pitched him over the fence and stood scraping one hoof and bowing from t'other side."

While still in the boat, Alvin and Chester had returned the salutation of Calvert. The Captain remained seated at the wheel, but the second mate stepped out on the float and a general introduction followed. The detective and he went aboard and sat down on one of the seats. Mike kept them company, and throwing in the clutch, Alvin guided the launch into the spacious waters outside, all three waving a salute to Westerfield, who stood on the float and watched them for some minutes.

Detective Calvert had the good sense fully to admit Mike Murphy to his confidence, though he had hoped at first he would not be a member of the party. Alvin Landon gave the man to understand that he was not hiring out his boat, but was conferring a favor upon the officer, who had the choice of rejecting or accepting it on the terms offered. While Calvert could not doubt the loyalty of the young Hibernian, he distrusted his impulsiveness. But as I have said, having decided upon his line of conduct, he did not allow himself to show the slightest degree of distrust.

Mike on his part was tactful enough to act as listener while the man made clear his plans. He did not ask a question or speak until addressed. The launch moved so quietly that Alvin, with his hands upon the wheel and scanning the water in front, heard all that was said by the others, and when he thought it fitting took part in the conversation.

Instead of returning to Southport, the Deerfoot circled Cape Newagen, which you know is the southern extremity of that island, and entering the broad bay, headed up the Sheepscot River, over the same course it had followed before.

"Mike was not with you," said Detective Calvert, "when you traced the other launch into that little inlet at the lower end of Barter Island. That boat stayed there overnight and may still be there, but probably is not."

"Suppose it isn't there?" said Chester.

"We must find out where she is. That is the chief reason for my presuming upon the kindness of the Captain to lend me the help of his launch. In other words, it is my wish that the _Deerfoot_ shall serve as the Scout of the Kennebec."

"A romantic title," remarked Alvin, over his shoulder, "though we are not cruising on the Kennebec, but up the Sheepscot."

"No doubt we shall have to visit the larger river. And then, you know," added Calvert, with a smile, "the name I suggest sounds better than the other."

The launch required no special attention just then, and, with one hand on the steering wheel, Captain Alvin looked around:

"Mike, what do you think of it?"

"Arrah, now, what's the difference what ye call the boat? At home, I was sometimes referred to as the Queen of the May, and again as the big toad that St. Patrick forgot to drive out of Ireland, but all agraad that I was as swate under one title as the ither."

"Suppose the _Water Witch_ happens to be where Chester and I saw her at night?" asked Alvin of their director.

"We shall have to decide our course of action by what develops."

Neither of the youths was fully satisfied with this reply. They could not believe that a professional detective would come this far upon so peculiar an enterprise without having a pretty clear line laid out to follow. It may have been as he said, however, and he was not questioned further.

The day could not have been finer. The threatening skies of a short time before had cleared and the sun was not obscured by a single cloud. Though warm, the motion of the launch made the situation of all pleasant. Since there was no call for haste, Calvert suggested to the Captain that he should not strain the engine, and Alvin was quite willing to spare it. The time might soon come when it would be necessary to call upon the boat to do her best, and he meant she should be ready to respond.

Past the Cat Ledges, Jo and Cedarbrush Islands moved the _Deerfoot_ like a swan skimming over the placid waters. Then came Hendrick Light, Dog Fish Head, Green Islands and Boston Island. Powderhorn was passed, and then they glided by Isle of Springs, which brought them in sight of Sawyer. A little beyond was the inlet where they had seen the _Water Witch_ reposing in the darkness of night. _

Read next: Chapter 3. At The Inlet

Read previous: Chapter 1. A Proposal And An Acceptance

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