by Hugh Lloyd
Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, MFR and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
_A SKIPPY DARE MYSTERY STORY_
AMONG THE RIVER PIRATES
BY HUGH LLOYD _Author of_ The Hal Keen Mystery Stories
ILLUSTRATED BY SEYMOUR FOGEL
GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
Copyright, 1934, by GROSSET & DUNLAP, Inc. _All Rights Reserved_ _Printed in the United States of America_
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE I Upstream 7 II Condemned 14 III The Basin 22 IV Compromise 28 V The Apollyon 35 VI A Strange Story 44 VII For Skippy 51 VIII Alone 56 IX A Visitor 61 X A Suggestion 66 XI All of a Kind 73 XII Drifting 76 XIII Lights 80 XIV The Bell Buoy 84 XV Rescued 91 XVI River People 96 XVII Mugs 103 XVIII Bad News 110 XIX Danger 115 XX A Job 120 XXI What Next? 124 XXII Big Joe’s Idea 129 XXIII Another Job 134 XXIV Another Rescue 139 XXV Davy Jones 148 XXVI The Rocks 153 XXVII Suspense 157 XXVIII The Duffys 162 XXIX Good News 168 XXX Beasell 172 XXXI Moonlight 176 XXXII The Last of the Basin 180 XXXIII Skippy’s Wisdom 186 XXXIV The Great Adventure 195
AMONG THE RIVER PIRATES
CHAPTER I UPSTREAM
The shabby old motor boat moved slowly up the river towing an equallyshabby old barge. Dilapidated and unpainted as the hull was, the enginewas well muffled—suspiciously well muffled—and the disreputable lookingcraft moved through the water with all the noiseless dignity of a yacht.
A ferry-boat paused midway of the long tow rope and its commuters,crowded on the forward deck, watched this slow-moving procession withsome show of annoyance. Not a few impatient remarks rose loud and clearabove the hum of the restless crowd, directed at the head of a manseated in the stern of the boat, calmly puffing on a pipe. Aft on thebarge, a young boy was wrestling heroically with the tiller, trying tokeep the lumbering hulk head on.
Slowly they crawled upstream. On their left was the precipitous Jerseyshore, and on their right the towering buildings of the great city. Overthe water the late afternoon sun spread a warm, mellow glow and touchedwith gold the myriad windows of the clustering skyscrapers across theriver.
The man knocked out his pipe with calm deliberation and turned his wide,gray eyes to the lofty Palisades, now bathed in a dazzling crimson. Thenslowly his glance wandered back to where the shimmering light fellacross the little shanty on the barge and picked out in hold relief theincongruously new and shining letters, _Minnie M. Baxter_.
A smile lighted up his lined, weary features, a smile of pride inownership.
“She ain’t so bad fer the old battle-axe that she is, hey Skippy?” hecalled to the boy.
The boy’s tousled head appeared from around the battered cabin.
“I’ll say she ain’t, Pop,” he answered. “An’ she’s _ours_! Gee, I can’tbelieve my pop really an’ truly owns a _whole_ barge!”
The man laughed, then listened for a moment to a significant soundemanating from the muffled engine.
“That there front cylinder’s missin’ agin, Skippy,” he shouted. “Loop’er in that there ring; the tide’s runnin’ out now so she’ll standupstream. Set ’er even ’n’ come aboard here.”
The boy nodded obediently and with an end of rope fastened the oldtiller to a rusty ring. Then, hurrying forward, he jumped into the waterand grasping the taut tow line, pulled himself hand over hand andscrambled over the stern of the launch.
The father put out a large, work-worn hand and helped him in with atenderness that was surprising in one so rough and uncouth looking.
“Gimme that there shirt and them shoes while I hang ’em near theengine,” he said, his voice soft with affection. “Ye’ll be gettin’ a badthroat agin.” He made no demand for the boy’s trousers, which were theonly other article of apparel that the little fellow wore.
Having spread the clothing to dry and adjusted the rebellious motor, theman returned to the stern. He relighted his pipe and sat down with anarm about his son.
“I’ll steer her fer a while, Pop,” said Skippy.
For a few minutes there was silence.
“Yer glad we’re goin’ straight?” the man asked with a sudden move of hisarm on the boy’s shoulder.
Skippy’s eyes widened and he looked up at his parent, hesitantly.
“I mean yer glad we’re goin’ straight—in a straight racket, I mean? Nowthere ain’t goin’ to be no more worry about coppers. I won’t care ifthey’re floatin’ all over the harbor an’ I won’t be worryin’ about nopinches. A man don’t ever think uv bein’ pinched when his racket’s onthe up and up. An’ that’s me from now on. I said when I got threehunderd saved I’d buy a barge an’ not touch no more shady rackets. _An’I have!_ Three hunderd—every penny we had in the world, sonny, I paidJosiah Flint fer the _Minnie M. Baxter_. She’s worth every dime uv it.”
Skippy nodded gravely.
“An’ll that help me t’ be honest when I grow up, too,” he asked eagerly,“an’ be like—like a gentleman even?”
“Sure, Skippy. Ain’t that just why I saves up an’ buys the _Minnie M.Baxter_? So’s yer kin grow up clean an’ honest like—that’s why I doneJosiah Flint’s dirty work fer his dirty money! So’s I could save an’ buythis ol’ battle-axe an’ give yer a good an’ a clean start.”
“But we’re gonna carry garbage an’ ashes on her,” said Skippy. “Thatain’t so clean exactly, is it, Pop?”
“Garbage an’ ashes’ll bring in clean money, Skippy—that’s what I’mtalkin’ about—clean money. Since yer ma died I ain’t had many realhonest like jobs. It’s been hard ter git ’em with yer needin’ me withyer so much counta yer bad throat. Anyw
ays the money come easier an’quicker on my jobs even if it was dirty an’ now I’m all through withgettin’ it shady like.”
“An’ my throat’s lots better’n it usta be, Pop,” said Skippy eagerly. “Iain’t had a bad one for three months’n over.”
“Sure, I know. Everthin’ll be jake now with us goin’ straight. Ol’Flint, let him have his dirty money an’ his fine yacht. It’s a wonder hegets so generous an’ sells me such a good scow fer three hunderdsmackers. Everybody says he’s such a money-pincher he’d even try makin’money on a rusty nail.”
“A regular miser, huh, Pop?” said Skippy. “Maybe he felt sorry about yousavin’ all that money so’s you could get a clean business. Did he saythe _Minnie M. Baxter’s_ a good barge for haulin’ garbage an’ ashes?”
“Sure. He boosted her hisself when I tells him I wants a good scow. An’he oughta know, him that owns more scows’n he can count.”
“Gee, three hunnerd dollars—real money,” mused the boy.
“Sure, but not for no scow like this one. Brand new ones cost four timesthat. Big Joe Tully paid Ol’ Flint five hunderd fer his an’ Joe cleanedup two thousand bucks on the first year. He tole me that fer a fact.”
“But ain’t Big Joe Tully doin’ sumpin’ for Mr. Flint now?” Skippy asked.
“Big Joe can’t keep away from dirty money,” replied the man. “He wantsto get rich quick. Not me, though. I can keep away from Ol’ Flint fromnow on, an’ what’s more, _I will_!”
“Gee, I know you will, Pop,” said the boy, with shining eyes. “You’renot like—well, you’re different from old Mr. Flint an’ that Big Joe.”
The father ran his hand over his son’s tousled head and gripped ahandful of the straight brown hair affectionately.
“That cabin ain’t goin’ ter make us no bad little shack, hey Skippy?” hesaid nodding toward the little square shelter aft.
“She’s swell inside—for a barge, I mean. Three bunks an’ a nice oilstove an’ a table an’ chairs. Gee, that’s a regular home, huh Pop? Eventhere’s a kerosene lamp.”
“Sure. Yer can read books an’ be nice and comfortable in there nights.That paint job,” he said, scrutinizing it thoughtfully; “I ain’t so fonduv that there red, rusty color. It’s kinda gloomy. Well, we can repainther sometime when we’re makin’ money. Blamed if that launch acrossstream ain’t headin’ straight this way.”
“It’s the harbor inspectors, Pop. Whadja s’pose....”
“Well, I got my license all ready, if that’s what they’re after.Anyways, we ain’t got no stuff[1] aboard, so we should worry.”
Skippy wondered and shivered a little. His father’s services in theemploy of the rich, unscrupulous Josiah Flint had brought a certaininstinctive fear of all uniformed officials and the harbor inspectorswere no exception. It was difficult for him to believe even now thatthese uniformed men meant no harm to his father.
Skippy had lived in the shadow of the law a little too long.
CHAPTER II CONDEMNED
Skippy watched as the green, shining launch swept alongside and stopped.He was instantly reassured, however, when its occupants smiled geniallyat him and then at his father.
“Well, if it ain’t Toby Dare himself,” said one of the men, heartily.“Buy her lately, Dare?”
“Jes’ yesterday, Inspector Jones,” said Skippy’s father, proudly. “An’ Iain’t a-goin’ ter put nothin’ on her but what I’ll be glad ter show teranybody what asks.”
Inspector Jones’ bland face became serious.
“Big Joe Tully said the same thing when he bought his scow, Dare,” hesaid. “I wouldn’t make promises too soon.”
Toby Dare’s eyes turned fondly on his son.
“Big Joe Tully ain’t got no boy like my Skippy ter fetch up,” he saidwith firm resolve.
“Good for you, Dare,” the inspector smiled. “Skippy’s worth keeping outof trouble for. But see that you keep him in mind when you’re tempted.Most o’ you birds that start a new leaf stub your toes.”
“Not me,” said Toby vehemently. “I ain’t carin’ ter make no quickfortune. A couple grand a year’ll start Skippy an’ git him educated.That’s all I’m carin’ about, Inspector. _Me_, I don’t need nothin’.”
Inspector Jones beamed upon the smiling Skippy, then casually glancedtoward the barge.
“_Minnie M. Baxter_, eh?” he mused.
“Yere,” said Toby exultantly. “That was my wife’s name when she was agirl. She died when Skippy was born. I thought mebbe the name’d bring meluck.”
The inspector nodded sympathetically.
“Got any contracts lined up?” he asked.
“Two,” said Toby proudly. “An’ it ain’t bad fer a start. I’m ter haulgarbage an’ ashes from the island.”
“Good for you, Dare. Well, we’ll look her over and pass on her, then letyou beat it.”
Toby Dare looked exultantly at his son as the trim green launch chuggedoff to circle the barge. It was a look of triumph and of high hopes forthe future.
“All we need’s his O.K., Skippy,” he said in soft tones. “It’s somethin’ter be able ter face guys like the inspector, specially when I beendodgin’ him so long.”
“Then he knows you usta——” Skippy’s tongue seemed not to be able to saythe word.
“Sure,” said Toby, a little abashed. “There ain’t many reg’lars in thisharbor that the inspector ain’t got spotted some time or other. But Ishould worry now.”
Skippy nodded happily and a silence ensued between them. They listenedtogether and watched while the harbor launch paused midway of the_Minnie M. Baxter_ and Inspector Jones and his two subordinates held aninaudible conference. Then for a time they made soundings after whichthe inspector boarded the barge and spent another five minutesinspecting it fore and aft.
“There’s more ter this here inspectin’ business than what a guy thinks,”said Toby simply. “All I know uv boats is this here kicker. I never didmore’n load an’ unload aboard Ol’ Flint’s scows.”
“The inspector’s gettin’ back in the launch,” said Skippy eagerly. “Nowthey’ll come back an’ say it’s all right an’ then we can go, huh?”
Toby Dare nodded and smilingly waited as the launch chugged backalongside of his kicker.
“What yer think uv my ol’ battle-axe, hey, Inspector?” he asked,chuckling.
“Battle-axe is a good word for her, Dare,” said the inspector solemnly.“Nothing describes her better.”
Toby Dare’s generous mouth seemed to tighten at the corners.
“What yer mean, Inspector?”
“How much did you pay for her?”
“Three hunderd—why?” Toby’s lips trembled a little and he searched theinspector’s face anxiously.
“Who’d you buy her from?” the inspector persisted.
“Ol’ Flint! Josiah Flint,” Toby answered suspiciously. “_Why?_”
“I thought it must be somebody like him. I hate to spring it on you,Dare, but you’ve paid three hundred dollars too much. She’s not worth adime.”
Toby Dare cleared his throat and a strange look came into his kindlygray eyes.
“Inspector ——, yer mean this here barge ain’t....” he began.
“She’s not seaworthy,” the inspector interposed as kindly as he could.“It’s not safe to keep her afloat, Dare. Flint gypped you. You shouldhave had somebody look her over before you bought her—somebody that knewan up-and-coming barge from driftwood. That’s all you got on your hands,I’m sorry to say—_driftwood_. Her keel’s as rotten as a keel canpossibly be.”
Toby Dare’s tanned, weather-beaten face went suddenly white and he madea funny little clicking noise with his tongue.
“The keel,” he muttered hoarsely, “can’t I have ’er fixed,Inspector—_can’t I_?”
Inspector Jones shook his head.
“It’d take more money than what you paid for the old hulk, Dare; moremoney than you�
�ve got, I guess.”
“I ain’t got a cent, Inspector, that’s the truth,” Toby said, choking onhis words. “Every cent I had I paid Ol’ Flint an’—an’....”
Inspector Jones leaned toward the miserable man.
“Don’t take on so, Dare. Maybe the thing’s not as hopeless as it seems.If Josiah Flint’s got a spark of human feeling he’ll make good. Perhapshe didn’t realize what shape the barge was in when he sold her. He ownsso many....”
“That’s jest it, Inspector,” said Toby, clenching his calloused hands.“Ol’ Flint _ain’t_ got human feelin’. I worked fer him an’ I know. An’fer a big ship-owner like him, he knows every craft he owns like a book.Now that I think uv it, I know he knew what he was sellin’ me! He knew Iwas dumb about them things an’ he took advantage uv it.” Dare lookeddown the harbor, glowing in the sunset, and his jaw was setdeterminedly. “He smiled, Ol’ Flint did, when I forked over my jack. Heknew all the time!”
Skippy’s eyes were misty and he looked appealingly at Inspector Jones.
“Does that mean Pop can’t use the _Minnie M. Baxter_?” he faltered.
The inspector averted his face from the boy’s pleading eyes.
“If you think you can’t appeal to Flint personally, Dare,” said he, “suehim. A lawyer’ll make him kick in.”
“Not from Ol’ Flint,” said Toby Dare hoarsely and looking straightacross the river. “He’s too rich ter be sued. But there’s one way uvfixin’ him—_one way_!”
Inspector Jones motioned his men to start their craft on its way.
“Cheer up,” he said, glancing quickly from father to son. “You’ll get abreak yet. The safest way to get after Flint, Toby, is to sue him. You’dcertainly not get anywhere with him the way you feel now. Meanwhile, thesafest place for the scow is up at the Basin. She’s just not safe evento be towed around the harbor.”