Boy Pilot of the Lakes; Or, Nat Morton's Perils

by Frank V. Webster

  CHAPTER VI

  AN UNEXPECTED DISCOVERY

  "Don't let him worry you," said Mr. Dunn consolingly. "He's a surlyfellow, and he's always interfering in my department."

  "But the captain may discharge me," replied Nat. "Still, I am surethose boxes came aboard. I counted them carefully and I don't believeI would be ten out of the way."

  "Of course not. Probably the mate stowed them in some other place andhe's forgotten all about it. They'll turn up."

  "I hope so, for I would not like to make a mistake the first day out."

  At that moment a deckhand came up to where Nat stood talking to thepurser.

  "Captain wants to see you," he said to the boy.

  "Don't get excited now," advised Mr. Dunn. "Here, take our checkinglist with you and tell the captain exactly how it happened. If you aresure the boxes came aboard say so--and stick to it."

  "I will," answered Nat, and, with rather an uneasy feeling, he wentaft to where the captain's cabin was located.

  He found the mate there, looking quite excited, while Captain Marshallwas far from calm. Evidently there had been high words between themen.

  "What is this, Nat?" asked the captain. "The mate says he is short tenboxes. You have them on your list as coming aboard, but they are notto be found. You know that will make trouble, to have anything wrongwith the cargo."

  "I'm sure nothing is wrong," replied Nat. "I went over my listcarefully, and I am positive the boxes are on board."

  "And I say they're not," insisted the mate. "I guess I've been in thisbusiness long enough to know more than a green lad who has only beenhere a day."

  "You want to be careful, Nat," went on Captain Marshall. "I havealways depended on Mr. Bumstead in regard to matters connected withthe stowing of the cargo."

  "I am sure those boxes are aboard, sir," went on Nat firmly. "If youwill allow me to take a look I think I can find them."

  "What! Go through all the cargo after it's stowed away!" exclaimed theangry mate. "I guess not much! I'll not allow it!"

  The door of the cabin opened and there entered the pilot, Mr.Weatherby. He started back on seeing the mate and Nat.

  "Oh, excuse me," he said. "I didn't know you had any one in here,Captain Marshall."

  "That's all right, come right in," replied the commander. "There's alittle difficulty between Nat and Mr. Bumstead, and I'm trying tostraighten it out."

  He related what had taken place, and told of the missing boxes.

  "And there you are," he finished. "It seems to be quite a mix-up, andI'm sorry, for I like to keep my cargo and the records of itstraight."

  "Hum," murmured the pilot. "Mr. Bumstead says the boxes are not here,and Nat says they came aboard, eh? Well, I should think the easiestway would be to look and see if they are here or not."

  "That's what I proposed," exclaimed Nat eagerly.

  "Yes! I guess I'll have you disturbing the whole cargo to look for tensmall boxes!" exclaimed the mate. "Not much I won't! I'm right, and Iknow it!"

  "No, I think Nat is right," said Mr. Weatherby quietly.

  "Do you mean to tell me I made a mistake?" inquired Mr. Bumstead.

  "I don't know whether you did or not. But I know Nat's plan is theonly one that can decide the matter. If the boxes came aboard thelast thing, they can't be very far down among the rest of the cargo.It will not take long to look. What do you say, captain?"

  Captain Marshall was in a sort of quandary. The mate was his chiefofficer, and he wanted to be on his side because Mr. Bumstead ownedsome shares in the ship, and also because Mr. Bumstead relieved thecommander of a lot of work that, otherwise, would have fallen to theshare of the captain. On the other hand Mr. Marshall did not want tooffend the pilot. In addition to being a relative of his, Mr.Weatherby was one of the stockholders in the company which owned thesteamer _Jessie Drew_, and, as the captain was an employee of thiscompany, he did not want to oppose one of the officers of it.

  "I suppose that's the only way out of it," the captain finally said,though with no very good grace. "Only the whole cargo must not beupset looking for those boxes."

  "I'll be careful," promised Nat. "I think I know where they werestowed."

  "Um! You think you do, but you'll soon find you're much mistaken!"said the mate scornfully.

  "I'll give you a hand," said the pilot. "Mr. Simmon, my helper, is inthe pilot-house," he went on, in answer to a questioning glance fromCaptain Marshall. "The ship is on a straight course now, and we'llhold it for an hour or two. Now, Nat, come on, and we'll see if wecan't solve this puzzle."

  It did not take long to demonstrate that Nat was right, and the matewrong. The ten boxes were found in the afterhold, where they had beenput by mistake, which accounted for the mate not being able to findthem.

  "What have you to say now?" asked the pilot of Mr. Bumstead, when thesearch was so successfully ended.

  "What have I to say? Nothing, except that I think you did a mean thingwhen you got this boy in here, and kept my nephew out of the place,which he needs so much. But I'll get even with him yet for cominghere." It appeared the mate's protest to Captain Marshall, aboutemploying Nat, had been of no effect.

  "I guess Nat needed a place to work as much as did your nephew,"replied Mr. Weatherby, when his _protege_ had gone back to thepurser's cabin. "His father is dead, and you ought to be glad that theorphan son of an old lake sailor has a chance to earn his living,instead of making it hard for him."

  "Was his father a lake sailor?" asked the mate quickly.

  "Yes. Nat's father was James Morton, who was employed on a lumberbarge."

  "James Morton! On a lumber barge!" exclaimed the mate, turning pale."Are you sure of that?"

  "Certainly. But what of it? Did you know Mr. Morton?"

  "Jim Morton," murmured the mate. "I might have recognized the name. Sohis son is aboard this vessel! I must do something, or----"

  "What was that you said?" asked the pilot, who had not caught themate's words.

  "Nothing--I--er--I thought I used to know his father--but--but it mustbe another man."

  The mate was clearly very much excited over something.

  "Now look here!" exclaimed Mr. Weatherby sternly. "Nat is not to blamefor coming here. I got him the place, and I'll look out for him, too.If you try any of your tricks I'll take a hand in the game myself.Now, I've given you your course, and I want you to keep on it. If yourun afoul of me you'll be sorry for it."

  The mate turned aside, muttering to himself, but the pilot thought itwas because he had made a mistake about the boxes.

  "Look out for him, Nat," said Mr. Weatherby, a little later, after thepilot had reported to the captain the result of the search for themissing boxes. "He seems to have some grudge against you, and he'll doyou an injury if he can."

  "I believe that," replied Nat, "though I can't see why he should. Inever injured him, and it was not my fault that I got the place hewanted for his nephew."

  "No, of course not. But keep your weather eye open."

  "I will."

  Captain Marshall showed no very great pleasure at finding that Nat wasin the right. The truth was he feared the mate would be chagrined overthe mistake he himself had made, and Captain Marshall was the leastbit afraid of Mr. Bumstead, for the commander knew the mate was awareof certain shortcomings in regard to the management of the vessel, andhe feared his chief officer might disclose them.

  "You want to be careful of your lists," the commander said to Nat."You were right this time, but next time you might be wrong."

  Nat's pleasure at finding he had not made a mistake was a littledampened by the cool way in which the captain took it, but Mr.Weatherby told him not to mind, but to do his work as well as hecould, and he would get along all right.

  For two or three days after that the voyage proceeded quietly. On thethird day the ship stopped at a small city, where part of the cargowas discharged. Nat and the purser were kept busy checking off, andverifying cargo lists, and, when the _Jessie Drew_ was re
ady toproceed, Nat took to the mate a duplicate list of what cargo had beendischarged.

  "Sure this is right?" asked Mr. Bumstead surlily.

  "Yes, sir," replied Nat, more pleasantly than he felt.

  "Don't be too sure, young man. I'll catch you in a mistake yet, andwhen I do--well, look out--that's all."

  He tossed the list on his desk, and, as he did so, some papers slippedto the floor of his office. He stooped to pick them up, and somethingdropped from his pocket.

  It was a flat leather book, such as is used by some men in which tocarry their money or papers. Nat idly glanced at it as the materestored it to his pocket. Then the boy caught sight of something thatmade his heart beat quickly.

  For printed in gold letters on the outside of the wallet was a name,and the name was that of his dead father, James Morton!

  "That pocketbook! Where did you get it?" he eagerly asked of the mate.

  "Pocketbook? What pocketbook?"

  "The one that dropped from your pocket just now."

  "That? Why, that's mine. I've had it a good while."

  "But it has my father's name on it! I saw it. It is just like one heused to carry. He always had it with him. Let me see it. Perhaps ithas some of his papers in it!"

  Nat was excited. He reached out his hand, as if to take the wallet.

  "You must be dreaming," exclaimed the mate, and Nat noticed that hishands trembled. "That is my pocketbook. It has no name on it."

  "But I saw it," insisted Nat.

  "I tell you it hasn't! Are you always going to dispute with me? Nowget out of here, I want to do my work," and the mate fairly thrust Natout of the room, and locked the door.

  "I'm sure that was my father's pocketbook," murmured the boy, as hewalked slowly along the deck. "How did the mate get it? I wonder if heknew my father? There is something queer about this. I must tell Mr.Weatherby."

  Nat would have thought there was something exceedingly queer about it,if he could have seen what the mate was doing just then. For Mr.Bumstead had taken the wallet from his pocket, and, with his knife, hewas carefully scraping away the gold letters that spelled the name ofJames Morton--Nat's father.