The Rival Campers Afloat: or, The Prize Yacht Viking

But Little Tim didn’t get any farther, for Henry Burns had him lifted clear up on his shoulder. And Jack Harvey had him, the next minute, and between the two he was mauled and hugged and slapped till his shoulders smarted – and he was almost in tears, too, to discover what he had accomplished.

As for the official, who had made such an important discovery, he hardly knew at first whether to be angry or not, at finding that his discovery was really of a yacht that had already been recovered. But he finally relented, and patted Little Tim on the back, too, and said he was a good boy. Then he took Mr. Carleton’s description and hurried up into the town.

He got trace of Mr. Carleton, too, after a time, at the big hotel, where Carleton had succeeded in buying some provisions. He traced him from there, down through the town, to the wharf. Later, he found a man who had seen such a person come ashore from a skiff, and leave her adrift and run up the shore. And lastly, the station agent had seen a man answering that description take the early morning train out of town.

Mr. Carleton had, indeed, vanished – a disappointed, wrathful, frightened man. A strange and most complete disappearance, too, for neither Stoneland nor Southport heard of him more. True, there came a message from the police, a day later, that a man who was much like the missing Mr. Carleton, had had some trouble over a ticket with the conductor of a train entering Boston; but the man had got away from the station, and no arrest had been made.

But it was all one to Henry Burns and Jack Harvey, what should become of Mr. Carleton, when they had the Viking back. And there, in the course of the afternoon, when they were preparing to depart, was a canoe to be seen, coming down alongshore. So they sailed up and met it, and had Tom and Bob aboard. And there was Little Tim, whom they had taken with them, to be congratulated. And then, there were the Warren boys in the Spray, to be hunted up among the islands, and told the good news.

Oh, yes, and there was Captain Sam, roaring like a sea-lion over the good news. And there were the two yachts, the Viking and the Surprise, going up the bay together, to meet the Spray wherever they should find her.

Then, late that afternoon, as Captain Sam was nearing Grand Island, on his return voyage, he espied in the distance, close to shore, a forlorn figure, rowing wearily in the direction of Southport.

“I’m blest if that don’t look like young Harry Brackett,” exclaimed Captain Sam. “It is, as sure as you’re alive. Ahoy, don’t you want a tow, there?”

But the boy, turning his head in the direction of the Nancy Jane, shook his head mournfully, and resumed his rowing.

“Well, you don’t have ter,” was Captain Sam’s comment.

Harry Brackett, sore, sleepless, and weary, had his own reasons for not wishing to face the captain.

One week later, Jack Harvey, sitting on the step of Rob Dakin’s store, received a letter. He opened and read:

“My dear Jack: – I’ve won the lawsuit and you shall have some money as soon as things are settled. I wonder how you have got along this summer. Too bad to cut you off, but I’ll make it up to you by and by. Let me know how much money you need.

“Affectionately,“Your father,“William Harvey.”

For once in his life, Jack Harvey was prompt with an answer. This is what he wrote:

“Dear Dad: – Glad you won. Much obliged for offering me the money. I don’t need it. I’ve been earning some, and if you want some ready money I’ll lend you twenty-five dollars.

“Affectionately,“Your son,“Jack.”

They were all aboard the yacht Viking, one evening not long after – Henry Burns and Jack Harvey, the crew, Tom and Bob, and the Warren boys.

“Fellows,” said Harvey, “Henry’s got us all together to tell us a secret – something he’s discovered, he says. Come on, Henry, out with it.”

Henry Burns, holding one hand in his coat pocket, and looking as grave as though his communication was to be one of the greatest importance, turned to his companions, and said:

“I thought, because you were all such warm friends of Squire Brackett, you might like to know whether he was after that secret drawer in the Viking, and whether he found the lobster-claw.”

The outburst of elation and surprise that followed assured Henry Burns he was not mistaken.

“Well, I’ve found out,” said Henry Burns. “You see, when we got the yacht back we saw the drawer on the floor, and the claw, too. That was Carleton’s work, of course. I didn’t think about the squire’s having the drawer out, till later. We were all so upset, you know.”

“Jack,” he continued, “do you remember our eating that lobster – the one that owned the claw we put into the drawer?”

“Why, yes, of course,” replied Harvey.

“And do you remember saying that you’d have eaten both claws if the one you left hadn’t been so big?”

“Why, yes, I remember that, too,” replied the puzzled Harvey.

“Well, now, which claw was it that you didn’t eat, and that we put into the drawer?” asked Henry Burns.

“The right one,” answered Harvey. “I remember breaking off the left one to eat because it was smaller.”

“That’s just as I remember it, too,” said Henry Burns. “Now look here.” He withdrew his hand from his pocket and produced the claw they had found on the cabin floor. A roar of laughter greeted its appearance.

It was the left claw of a lobster that Henry Burns held up to view.

THE END