Cadets of the Dolphin E-Book

Fenton Ash

• Herausgeber: Ktoczyta.pl
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Welcome to the important and meaningful boys’ adventure novel of Francis Henry Atkins which is „The Cadets of the Dolphin”. Aubrey, Frank (pseudonym of Francis Henry Atkins) was a British writer of „pulp fiction”, in particular science fiction aimed at younger readers. Despite his commercial success at the time, little is known about Atkins’ personal life.

Leseprobe

Contents

I. KENDALL STARTS TO JOIN THE DOLPHIN

II. ON THE JOURNEY TO WINCOMBE

III. A STARTLING ADVENTURE

IV. THE MYSTERIOUS LAUNCH

V. FRIENDS—AND FOES

VI. CAPTAIN PROBYN

VII. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING

VIII. THE RIVAL DORMITORIES

IX. A COWARDLY ATTACK

X. IN DIRE PERIL

XI. A SECRET ENEMY

XII. THE MAN HUNT

XIII. A DISAPPOINTMENT

XIV. UNEXPECTED HELP

XV. A MIDNIGHT FISHING EXPEDITION

XVI. TROUBLES AHEAD

XVII. THE SECOND OFFICER'S CONFIDENCES

XVIII. JACK'S PERIL

XIX. A NARROW ESCAPE

XX. IN THE GIRLS' SCHOOL-ROOM

XXI. DRUMMOND'S SUSPICIONS

XXII. TWO LETTERS

XXIII. THE THREAT

XXIV. IN THE TOILS

XXV. HOW MISS CARYLL MET JACK

XXVI. JACK AGAIN DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF

XXVII. A COWARDLY TRIO

XXVIII. JACK'S BIGGEST CONTEST

XXIX. GOOD INTENTIONS

XXX. MR. KENDALL'S GIFT

XXXI. TOO-GENEROUS JACK

XXXII. THE POND IN THE WOOD

XXXIII. KENDALL AND TROTT

XXXIV. UNDER SUSPICION

XXXV. SPREADING THE NET

XXXVI. A FRIEND IN NEED

XXXVII. IN THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION

XXXVIII. THE TRIAL

XXXIX. CONCLUSION

I. KENDALL STARTS TO JOIN THE DOLPHIN

“HULLO, Branson! Who’d have thought of seeing you up here! Thought you were away yachting with your dad! Did you get too seasick in that last gale, and decide to turn a landsman?”

The scene was Paddington Station. At the bookstall a young lad had been buying a paper, when he had heard himself addressed as above, and had felt a light touch on his arm.

He was a good-looking youngster, neither very dark nor very fair, and rather stout-built; somewhat, it may be said, of the sturdy, John Bull type of figure. His dark-blue suit, with its bright metal buttons, betokened the young, seafaring cadet. His keen, grey eyes, as he turned them towards the one who had addressed him, were frank and honest-looking.

He saw, standing looking at him, another lad about his own age, and dressed in a suit almost identical with his own. A fair, curly-headed, rather slim youngster, with, he thought, the merriest, most roguish-looking blue eyes he had ever seen.

“I–er–beg your pardon,” he said, “but were you speaking to me? Did you say Branson? That’s not my name–”

“Eh? Not your name? Oh, I’m sorry! I can see you’re not Branson now I’ve got a better look at you. But you’re uncommonly like–like, well, like one of our crowd!”

“That’s all right. No harm done,” was the answer given with a good-humored nod. “Are you one of the Dolphin chaps?”

“Hit it first time, sonny,” returned the other, with an air of easy-going nonchalance. “I’m a Dolphin boy, right enough; name, Wilfrid Caryll, commonly known as Will Caryll for short; sometimes–about December in each year–called Christmas Caryll, by cheeky kids who think they’ve hit upon something new. But you, sonny? If you’re not Branson–and I can see now you’re not–you’re a bit darker–who are you? Where d’ye hail from, and where are ye bound for?”

The first lad smiled at the stranger’s jaunty, free-and-easy manner.

“My name’s Jack Kendall,” he said, “and I’m on my way to join the Dolphin too. Perhaps if I tell you that I have a cousin–Clement Branson–already there, it may explain what’s puzzling you.”

Caryll whistled.

“Oh, that’s the explanation! Of course I know Clem Branson; but, I say”–here the speaker paused–”if you’re a new boy, and Branson your cousin, I s’pose he knew you were coming; so why didn’t he tell us? Never a word has he said about it, so far as I’ve heard.”

Kendall flushed, and looked embarrassed; but ere he could reply another voice–a man’s voice this time–broke in:

“What, Branson? I did not know you were up here!”

Kendall swung round, and found himself face to face with a tall, fine-looking, elderly gentleman, who was standing regarding him with a perplexed frown.

Young Caryll stepped towards him and explained:

“It’s not Branson, dad. I’ve just made the same mistake. This is a new boy, who’s on his way to join us.”

“H’m!” said the stranger. “I see, I see. Yes, of course; I see now. But, bless me, how like young Branson! At first I really I bought–humph! Strange, very strange!”

Muttering thus, more to himself than to either of the two, the stranger continued to look at the lad with such a keen, penetrating gaze as to add greatly to the latter’s embarrassment.

Seeing this, young Caryll took it upon himself to formally introduce the two:

“His name’s Jack Kendall, dad.” Then to Jack: “This is my father, Sir Keith Caryll.”

Sir Keith still, for a few moments, gazed at the youngster with a glance that seemed to scrutinise every detail of his face. Then, suddenly rousing himself, as it were, he murmured with an air of increased interest:

“Kendall–Jack Kendall! Yes, it must be so! I can trace the same likeness; but this lad must be like his mother. Tell me, my lad, are you, then, the son of John Kendall, who, I heard, died a few months ago?”

“Yes, sir,” Jack returned quietly, a shade passing over his face at the reminder.

“Ah! I thought so. I was sure of it. And your mother, lad? I used to know her–er–years ago. Is she well?”

Sir Keith seemed to wait anxiously for the answer. It was as though he feared to hear she was dead too.

“My mother is well, sir, thank you,” said Jack. “She is over there. She has come to see me off.”

“Good, good!” said Sir Keith. He turned, and, looking across the platform in the direction indicated, saw a lady, attired in deep mourning and widow’s weeds, standing beside the waiting train.

“I’ll–why, yes, I’ll go and speak to her!” exclaimed Sir Keith, and went off towards her.

Young Caryll turned to Kendall:

“It seems my dad knows your people,” he said, as though that fact properly clinched matters; “so you and I ought to be friends, I guess. Where’s your kit?”

“Over there,” Jack was going to say, “by that third-class carriage,” but he hesitated.

“You’d better bring it along and get in with us. There are several of us going down together. I’ll introduce you. You can see ’em waiting yonder. Come on!”

Kendall, glancing across the platform, saw a knot of lads in cadet uniform grouped round a carriage door. And again he hesitated, and his face once more flushed, for it was as he had been fearing. They were going first class, while he knew that the ticket his mother had taken for him was third class.

He was conscious, indeed, of something more than a passing flush; he felt himself go hot and cold all over.

This was another of the unpleasant “rubs” to his pride he had been receiving at intervals ever since his father had died and left his mother practically penniless. Before that time he had been used to riding first class and to similar little luxuries, like these other lads. But since then he had known what the “pinch of poverty” meant.

Jack Kendall’s position was certainly at this time, a trying one. He was being sent to join the Dolphin at the expense of a very wealthy, but eccentric, old bachelor uncle, Mr. Robert Kendall, the brother of Jack’s late father. In response to an appeal for assistance, made by Mrs. Kendall, that gentleman had agreed to pay the cost of sending him to join the Dolphin training-ship, to undergo a preliminary training, on probation, as it were. If his conduct were satisfactory, and he succeeded in passing the necessary “exams,” then Mr. Kendall might be disposed to help him still further. That was all he would promise; and as this assistance had seemed to be given grudgingly, and without any display of either affection or interest, Jack felt sorely that he was little better than a pauper, living on a relation’s charity. Mrs. Kendall, however, had been only too glad to accept the offer–indeed, her circumstances had left her no alternative.

It is not to be wondered at, then, that Jack flushed up and felt uncomfortable when his new friend said “come in with us.” Presumably, all these youngsters, his future shipmates, were the sons of more or less wealthy people, able to send them down first class and supply them with plenty of pocket-money. But Jack’s uncle had omitted pocket-money from his list of the expenses he was willing to defray, and had even shown himself almost miserly over the lad’s outfit. What then, Jack asked himself bitterly, was his position likely to be amongst these other lads?

Then, suddenly, his thoughts took another and a higher turn. The recollection of the sacrifices he knew his mother had made for him, in adding various articles to his outfit alone–not to mention a hundred other ways–rose up in reproof. Should all the sacrifice, all the quiet heroism under adversity, fall to her? Should he be mean enough, cowardly enough, to wish to shirk his share?

This question no sooner presented itself thus in the lad’s mind than his better nature answered it. There was, after all, no shame in honest poverty, and he was not going to show himself ashamed of it.

He drew himself up, squared his shoulders, and stepped out briskly beside his new acquaintance, his head in the air, ready to bear his part honestly and fearlessly whatever might betide.

“Here you are, sonnies!” cried Caryll, as the two marched up to the waiting group. “Here’s someone else to join our party! Captured him over by the bookstall, and brought him along, all alive O! Now, a penknife to a bath-bun, you can’t tell me his name first go off! Now, then, be quick! Hurry up, look sharp! Shout it out!”

“Why, it’s Branson, of course,” three or four shrill young voices called out.

“Ah, then it isn’t! Thought I’d have you there! Caught you nicely! This is a new boy, sonnies; name, Jack Kendall; profession, rank, or calling, Clem Branson’s cousin!”

At this announcement there were cries of surprise. One or two looked indignant, and seemed to think they had been unfairly “had.” But they clustered round to inspect the new arrival, and some shook hands cordially, while others preferred to be noncommittal, as it were, and to hold themselves in reserve.

Nearly all the lads were about Jack’s own age. The two exceptions were Will Caryll’s brother Bruce and a friend who was with him. To this brother Will whispered something, and he then came forward in a patronising way, and good-naturedly extended to the new arrival the favour of a friendly greeting. As he was the oldest boy there, the fact had a distinctly favourable effect upon the others; and Jack was soon chatting away busily, answering questions and putting queries in his turn.

In the midst of this Will Caryll said suddenly:

“Hullo! Dad’s beckoning. Wants you too, Bruce, I think.”

So saying, he slipped his arm into Jack’s and marched him off, his brother following in their wake. As they drew near to Sir Keith he motioned to his sons to come forward.

“Come, hurry up, you two! I want to introduce you to this lady. Here they are, Mrs. Kendall! Here are the two young budding Nelsons! The other one–Trevor–is at Osborne. Went back there yesterday.”

Mrs. Kendall received them with a gracious kindliness that put them thoroughly at their ease. It was easy to see that she must have been at one time a most beautiful and attractive woman. And even to-day, though her face bore the marks of recent grief and distress, she exhibited a winning, lovable nature which attracted the two lads and won their hearts at once.

They had no mother of their own–for Sir Keith was a widower–and perhaps that was one reason why they appreciated the kindly, motherly way in which she greeted them and began chatting with them.

Sir Keith, meanwhile, led Jack away with him. He took him to the booking-office, where he exchanged his third-class ticket–which he must have obtained from Mrs. Kendall–for a first-class one. This he gave him, at the same time slipping two half-sovereigns into his hand.

“Tut, tut! There, there!” he muttered, as Jack essayed to thank him. “I’m a very old friend of your mother’s, my lad. Knew her years ago; and I’m taking an old friend’s privilege. You can’t do without pocket-money, my lad, and I fear your mother can’t allow you much now.”

Jack felt a lump in his throat, and his eyes grew moist, as much at the kindliness of the words and tone as at the little load of worry that had been lifted from his mind. And it was all so unexpected! It was little enough he had experienced in the way of kindness from either friends or strangers since his father’s death!

Want more pocket-money! Yes, he knew he would; for, as Sir Keith had shrewdly guessed, it was little enough his mother had been able to give him. He could foresee what his position was likely to be amongst these other lads, who were sure to be well supplied. Still, he could do with less than a sovereign. Ten shillings more would be enough; it would indeed be wealth compared with what he had expected to carry down with him, and the other ten shillings his mother wanted more than he did. Therefore–

But at this point Jack’s thoughts were interrupted by the necessity for hastening back to the train. It was nearly time it started, and the guard was looking about and hurrying up the porters.

There were hasty good-byes, Jack was folded in his mother’s arms in a last long embrace, doors were slammed, whistles sounded, and the train moved off.

On the platform, amongst other groups, stood Mrs. Kendall and Sir Keith, watching a number of caps dodging about outside a carriage window like a swarm of gigantic bluebottles, and listening to a chorus of shrill cheers from lusty young throats, gradually dying away as the train receded.

Thus was young Jack Kendall launched upon his seafaring career under more promising conditions than but a few minutes before had seemed to him likely or possible.

It was characteristic of him that even during the hurry of leave-taking he had managed to slip into his mother’s purse one of the two half-sovereigns.

II. ON THE JOURNEY TO WINCOMBE

THE compartment in which Jack Kendall found himself was uncomfortably crowded. Boys were squeezing one another on the cushions, with others perched on the arms between, and still there was an overplus of youngsters who had to manage as best they could.

If these latter could have found sitting accommodation on the racks above they would doubtless have cheerfully climbed up there. That, however, not being feasible, they had to stand.

The party had, much to their surprise and displeasure, one strange fellow-traveller. He was an old gentleman, with grey hair and whiskers, who had rushed in–had almost been tossed in, in fact, at the last moment, as the train was on the move.

He had subsided into the corner by the door, and there remained, getting his breath, while the youngsters crowded round and nearly deafened him with their shrill cheers, and half- smothered him as they pressed to the window to look out and wave their caps.

When they had finished their cheering, and the excitement of starting had died down, the old gentleman, on the one side, and the lads on the other, mutually “took stock” of each other.

The lads were inclined to resent the stranger’s intrusion, and many furtive glances and nudges were exchanged amongst them. He, however, appeared unconscious of anything amiss, and beamed upon them benevolently through his gold-rimmed spectacles.

“Aha!” he murmured. “Young sailors, I see! Returning to your ship, I suppose, eh?”

He addressed himself more particularly to Will Caryll, that young gentleman having, after a fierce but short tussle with two of his shipmates, secured the corner opposite.

Now, it was one of young Caryll’s natural gifts that he could, when he so willed it, summon up a smile that was almost seraphic in its sweet, babyish innocence. The present seemed to him a suitable occasion for such a display; and thus it was that he and the old gentleman beamed mutually upon one another.

“Yes, sir,” said Will–and his tone was as respectful as his manner was engaging–”I am piloting these young sailors back after our Easter holidays. I am afraid they must have annoyed you with their noise, sir. I will try to keep them quieter the rest of the journey.”

“Oh, never mind, never mind! And what ship do you belong to?”

“The Dolphin training-ship, sir, at Wincombe.”

“Oh, the Dolphin! Let me see, I’ve heard of her. She’s Captain Probyn’s ship is she not?”

“Yes, sir. Do you know him, sir?”

The other shook his head. “No; I’ve never met him; but I’ve heard of him. He trains young gentlemen, I believe, for both the Navy and the merchant service.”

“Quite right, sir, Navy first; then, if you fail to pass the examinations for a naval cadet, you can stay on and train for the other.”

The old gentleman nodded. “And how do you like the life there?” he asked next. “What sort of a man is Captain Probyn?”

“Well, sir, I hardly like to say. He knows his work well–he’s a thorough good seaman and all that, but he’s a bit crotchety in some things.”

“Ah! You think he knows his work well. That’s good, very good indeed,” returned the stranger, evidently amused. “But crotchety, eh? In what way, now, is he crotchety?”

“Well, sir, he has his crochets about the simple life and all that. Thinks we ought to be taught to look after ourselves and pick up our own living, as it were. So we have rather a queer life of it at times. For one thing, we have to live on what we can catch.”

“Live on what you can catch!” exclaimed the old gentleman, greatly amazed. “How do you mean?”

Before replying to this query Will glanced round at his shipmates. These were domestic secrets, and he seemed to be mutely inquiring of them whether it would be right to reveal them to a mere stranger.

Jack Kendall was listening with great interest, anxious to learn all he possibly could as to what his life on board the Dolphin would be like. He felt much impressed by Will’s manner, and he particularly noted the serious expression in his eyes, from which the look of laughing, lurking mischief had completely disappeared. Not a trace of it remained; it had fled, as though for ever.

Will seemed satisfied with what he read in the faces of his friends, and turned his quiet gaze once more from them to his questioner.

“Well sir,” he said slowly, “we don’t want it to be talked about, but the fact is we have to fish for ourselves. And it takes all our time, I can assure you, sir, to pick up a living for two or three hundred boys with lines over the ship’s sides, catching small crabs, and starfish, and jelly-fish–”

“Eh? Starfish? Jelly-fish?” exclaimed the listener. “Surely you don’t eat jelly-fish?” And he looked round at the others as though in doubt.

“We’re allowed shrimp sauce with it, sir,” said Will’s particular chum, a lad named Boulter. “That is, when we can catch the shrimps.”

“Good gracious!” the stranger ejaculated. “What a strange diet to be sure!”

“We’re half starved on it most of the week,” another “budding Nelson,” named Steele, feelingly asserted, “unless we manage to get some eels for pies.”

“Oh, yes, we’re all right then,” Will agreed. “That is, if we can contribute some jam amongst us. Eel-and-jam pie is awfully nice, sir,” he added, looking at the old gentleman with his open- eyed gaze, and without so much as the flicker of an eyelid. “Did you ever try eel-and-jam pie, sir?”

His auditor looked aghast. He evidently scarcely knew whether to believe these surprising statements or not. But as he glanced wonderingly at the faces around, they looked back at him with an air of such conscious rectitude that he scarcely liked to hint disbelief.

“But–er–there are other fish–whiting, soles, and so on–to be caught, I suppose, eh?” he suggested.

“Oh, yes, sir,” returned Will, with something like a sigh; “but you see, they don’t come swarming round the ship in the river. We have to go after them in boats out to sea, beyond the mouth of the river. We are allowed to do that on a Saturday–that is our holiday–so as to get a catch for our Sunday dinner.”

“Then there is the cooking,” a boy named Egerton reminded Will.

“Ah, yes,” murmured that young gentleman, shaking his head. “Captain thinks we ought to learn to cook, so we have to do the cooking in turn. And–perhaps you’ll scarcely believe it, sir–but some of the chaps don’t know how to cook any more than–than–well, than you might yourself, sir! At any rate, they often send up the grub half-raw.”

“Dear, dear, dear!” said the old gentleman. “And yet,” he continued, with a gleam of humour in his eye, “you seem to do pretty well on it. You don’t look starved, you know.”

Will gave another sigh, and shook his head again sadly.

“We’ve been on holiday, you see, sir,” he explained. “We’ve had three weeks’ feeding up at home. You should have seen us when we left the Dolphin!”

“But–you’re not all Dolphin boys, I see,” said the traveller, looking across at Bruce Caryll and his friend, and eyeing the badges they wore. These two had appropriated to themselves the two corner seats beside the further door, by virtue of their superior age and rank.

So far, neither had said anything. They had merely looked on and gravely nodded their heads here and there.

“That’s my brother and his chum, sir,” Will volunteered. “They’re not going with us all the way; they will have to branch off presently for Dartmouth. They are full-blown Naval cadets there, where–you know, sir,” and he leaned over and whispered, as though afraid to speak the words above his breath, “where–er–the–er–you–”

The old gentleman nodded knowingly, and seemed to be trying to look as wise as Will himself.

“I know, I know–I understand,” he returned. Then to Bruce and his friend: “And how do you fare, my lads?”

“Oh,” said Bruce, with a lordly air, “We are treated very differently, sir. They treat us like gentlemen. They wouldn’t dare do otherwise, we have so many young swells amongst us–sons of some of the highest people in the land.”

“Quite so. And what sort of diet do they give you young swells?”

“Well, sir, the grub’s all right–nothing to complain of on that score–plenty of salmon and cucumber, and chicken, game in season, and all that.”

How long these remarkable accounts of the way the young sailors were treated would have continued, or how far they might have allowed their fertile imaginations to carry them, it is difficult to say. It so happened, however, that an interruption occurred. The engine gave a series of warning whistles, the brake was applied, and finally the train came to a stop.

One or two of the lads thrust their heads out of the window. They saw the guard coming along to meet the station-master from a small station a little way ahead. Judging from this that the stoppage was likely to be more than a brief one, they promptly opened the carriage door and swarmed out on to the line. By the time the guard had come up Will Caryll and two or three more had scrambled on to the roof of the carriage, in order, as they said, to see what the trouble was.

Needless to say, their fellow-traveller was greatly perturbed at this, and mildly, but vainly, expostulated.

“Now then, young gents, come down, come down!” growled the guard as he drew near. “Get back at once–we’re goin’ on.”

“There’s no hurry, Bruce,” said Will coolly from the roof, “There are some sleepers on the line in front, and the guard’s going to wake ’em up before we can go on.”

“I don’t want none o’ your chaff!” snapped the guard irritably. It was easy to see he was put out by the stoppage, and was in no humour for joking.

“You should say raillery–not chaff, guard,” smiled Will. “Every well-informed railwayman ought to know that.”

“Come down, young gentlemen,” pleaded the stationmaster, “What you’re doing is against the byelaws.”

“Looks as if we’ll have to make our beds here and pass the night,” grumbled one of the passengers, looking out from the next window. He was evidently getting impatient at the delay.

“Couldn’t do that, I guess, sir,” Will put in slily. “It would be against their by-by-laws.”

The passenger laughed, but the stationmaster frowned; and a man with him, who had the appearance of an engine-driver, muttered something angry under his breath.

“Who’s that, I wonder?” asked Boulter.

“Only an uncivil engineer,” said Will as he climbed down, followed by the others. They had seen signs of a start.

As a matter of fact, they were only just in time, for they had scarcely crowded in before the train was on the move.

“Ah, you were almost left behind, you see,” said the old gentleman, with a grave shake of the head. “It was very foolish of you to get out and climb on the roof. Might have turned out dangerous too. Why did you do it?”

“Force of habit, sir,” returned Will serenely. “You see, on board ship we’re accustomed to climb the mast to get a good look- out. They don’t have masts on trains, and the engine-funnel was too far away, so we had to do the best we could.”

“If I’d been as venturesome as you,” remarked the old gentleman, “I would have liked to take advantage of that stoppage to change into my own carriage where I left my things. I could not find it at the last moment at starting, and that’s why I got in here. However, I do not regret it, since it has enabled me to pick up from you boys some–er–most interesting information.”

But he seemed to have obtained all the information he wanted for the time being, for he asked no more questions, but buried himself in his newspaper till the train stopped at Swindon. Then he quitted the compartment and went in search of his own.

Then the Dolphin young gentlemen turned their attention to the “new boy,” and supplied Jack with a further stock of particulars and details relating to their life on board the Dolphin, of an even more extraordinary character than that he had already listened to.

The two Dartmouth cadets, in their turn, not to be outdone, treated him to some startling yarns of the doings of themselves and some of their highly aristocratic associates. These included stories of pranks in which names were casually mentioned which almost took Jack’s breath away, and to which he listened in wondering awe. It is hardly surprising that before they reached their journey’s end he was in a state of hopeless bewilderment, not knowing what to believe or what to disbelieve.

There was one point, however, upon which he gained some useful information. He learned that Sir Keith Caryll had himself been in the Navy, from which he had retired just before coming into his present title and an extensive estate.

His residence, Coombe Hall, Will told him, was situated near the coast, between Dartmouth and Wincombe.

“So you see,” said Will, “both Bruce and myself are within easy reach of our home, and we are each allowed to go there sometimes on a half-holiday. And dad’s always pleased to see any of our chums. Bruce brings over some of his young swell friends sometimes, and I can take anyone I chose. So you will be able to come too.”

“I should be very pleased,” said Jack, hesitatingly. “But–”

“Oh, we can’t have any ‘buts,’” laughed Will. “And there’s another thing–our motor-launch will be at the landing-place to-day to take me and my friends off to the Dolphin, and we can take you as well. That will save you from being fleeced by those old sharks of boatmen, who are always on the lookout for new boys who don’t know the ropes.”

Jack began to express his thanks for this welcome offer, when his new friend once more interrupted him.

“Oh, but I forgot. Perhaps you are expecting your cousin Branson to meet you and take you in tow?”

Again, at the mention of his cousin’s name, Jack flushed. But he only shook his head.

“Oh, well,” Will went on, “that idea occurred to me because I noticed–H’m! I hardly know how to explain, but, you know, I expect, that Branson has been passing his holiday on board his father’s yacht? That is your uncle’s yacht, I suppose?”

“Yes. Mr. Branson is what they call an uncle by marriage.”

“Well, they’ve been at Wincombe, cruising about there, and–funny thing!–I happened to notice a man who is, I know, one of the yacht’s crew, at Paddington Station. And he seemed to be watching you.”

“Watching me?” exclaimed Jack, astonished. “What should he want to watch me for?”

“Don’t know. Struck me he might have some message from your cousin to give you; and when he saw you with a crowd, hung back till he had a chance to get you alone.”

“No,” replied Jack, with decision; “you must have been mistaken, I think.”

Just then the train began to slacken speed, and no more was said. They were approaching the junction for Dartmouth, and Bruce and his companions began collecting their property.

At the junction the two got out and joined a number of fellow- cadets who had travelled in other parts of the train.

Then, amid fresh volleys of cheers, the train moved on again, and a short time afterwards it deposited the Dolphin lads at their destination–Wincombe Station.

III. A STARTLING ADVENTURE

“MY word!” exclaimed Will Caryll as he and his little crowd marched from the station towards the landing-place on the river-bank. “Here’s a pretty go! A sea-fog! We shall have trouble, I’m thinking, in finding our way to the ship.”

All the way down till a little while ago the weather had been bright and sunny. Then the wind had changed, the sky had become overcast, and it had grown colder, and now they could see that a driving mist was coming in from the sea.

It came swirling up the river, blotting out the landscape, and hiding not only the further side, but all the craft upon the water.

As they trudged along, all pretty well loaded with their belongings. Will grumblingly expressed surprise that his father’s servant had not been at the station to meet him.

“But look here, Kendall,” he said aside to Jack, “I saw another chap at the station from your uncle’s yacht, and it struck me again that he was looking for you. Yet he didn’t speak. Seemed to me, too, that he followed us down, though I don’t see him now.”

“I am sure you must be mistaken, Caryll,” Jack assured him. “If you must know, I may as well tell you now in confidence that–well, my uncle, Mr. Branson, is not very friendly with my mother. So neither he nor Clement is likely to trouble about me.”

Caryll whistled softly.

“Oh, I see. Sorry I spoke. That, I suppose, then, accounts for Clem Branson saying nothing about your coming, and not being here to meet you?”

“Yes; that’s all there is to be said,” Jack answered quietly. “And now, don’t let’s talk any more about it.”

He could not tell this new friend how matters really stood, how badly he and his mother had been treated by these same relatives since his father had died. He could not tell him yet, at any rate. But the thought of it brought a flush to his face and an indignant light to his eyes, which his observant companion noticed, and from which he, no doubt, drew his own conclusions.

“Righto!” said Will cheerily. “But it makes it seem all the more funny seeing those two chaps from their yacht, one up in London and one down here, as if they were watching for you.”

“I tell you you must have been mistaken,” Jack declared again. “If not–well, it must just have been a curious chance, a coincidence.”

Upon the landing-place, when they reached it, there was quite a crowd of lads standing, cold and shivering. Some were looking for boats they had expected to be ready for them, others were bargaining with boatmen to take them off; and the boatmen, on their side, were taking advantage of the fog to try to get extravagant prices for the work.

“Never mind those chaps,” said Will to Jack; “you stick to me, and I’ll get you aboard ail right. Crimmins, there’s that fellow again that I saw at the station!”

Jack looked round, but the man had already moved away.

Will walked on towards one end of the quay, followed by Jack and four or five others. There, moored to the side, they found a roomy, well-fitted, comfortable looking motor-boat, with the name Comet painted upon her bows.

Beside her stood a big, powerfully-built man, seemingly half sailor, half manservant, who came forward as he caught sight of Will to relieve him of what he was carrying. His hair and beard were red, turning to grey, and it was soon made clear by his speech that he hailed from “Ould Oireland.”

He was evidently well known to Will’s chums, for he received a chorus of friendly greetings from them, some being playfully couched in an imitation of his own brogue.

Jack noticed amongst other details that he had a fresh red weal across his nose as though he had but recently been in the wars somewhere.

“Hallo, Dennis,” said Will, as he handed over his little load, “where have ye been loitering? I thought ye’d have been at the station to meet us, and–Why, man, what’s the matter with your nose?”

“Sure,” put in Boulter, “he’s been promoted, only they’ve put the stripe on his nose instead of his arm!”

“Oi’ve had throuble here, Masther Will,” said Dennis. “Oi did start fur the station, but whin a fog came on Oi turned back t’ look t’ the cushions, an’ Oi found two spalpeens aboard. It’s makin’ free wi’ the boat they wor.”

“Making free with the boat!” exclaimed Will, astonished. “What for? Who were they?”

“Faith an’ it’s meself as can’t tell ye that same, sorr. Thavin’ rascals, I guess lookin’ fur phwat they could pick up. Annyways, Oi hustled thim out pretty quick; but in the scrimmage Oi slipped, and banged me face on the rail. An’ thin they sloped off in the fog. So Oi didn’t lave the boat agin.”

“Oh, Dennis, Dennis!” sighed Steele. “Fahncy it’s foightin’ ye’ve been! An’ ye niver let us knowt’ give us a chance to join in! Whin ye’ve stowed that cargo, sthand by an’ look out for more. We’ve plenty here amongst us.”

“But two men on board our boat!” said Will, in a puzzled tone. “Do you know them at all? Ever seen ’em before, Dennis?”

“Sure it’s strangers they wor, Masther Will. Oi never see ’em before; but Oi’d know ’em again annywheer. Low-down, sneakin’- look-in’ pirates they wor.”

Amidst a general chorus of ejaculations and many guesses, all more or less vague and some very wild, the youngsters stowed themselves and their belongings on board, and the boat moved slowly oat into the fog.

It was necessary to go cautiously, for there were evidently a good many craft about. They could be heard, but not seen. The swing of oars in the rowlocks came from several directions at once, and the whoop of a siren told that a steamer or tugboat was somewhere on the move.

And amongst the other sounds there could now be heard the “jug, jug” of a steam launch quite close at hand.

Dennis, however, knew his way, for he went on steadily, and without hesitation. But he turned his head more than once, and glanced inquiringly in the direction of the sound made by the launch.

“Sure it’s follerin’ us she seems t’ be,” he muttered at last. “It’s runnin’ into us they’ll be if they don’t care.”

“It sounded to me as if they started when we did, or a little after,” said Will. “Was there a launch alongside the landing- place, Dennis? I didn’t see one.”

“Niver a bit av wan, sorr, as far as Oi saw. But it’s follerin’ us she seems t’ be.”

“Hallo!” cried Boulter suddenly. “Why Will, your boat must be leaking badly–the water’s coming in!”

“Eh, what? Our boat doesn’t leak!” Will declared.

“She does–she must! The water’s coming in,” exclaimed first one and then another.

Jack, who was farther forward than the rest, pulled up a loose flooring-board and put his hand down.

“Why,” he called out, “there must be a hole here! The plug’s got out.”

“There ain’t no plug, nor no hole theer,” said Dennis.

Dennis stopped the motor and left the helm, and, snatching up a piece of oiling rag, went forward to investigate.

“Sure, an’ ye’re roight, sorr!” he exclaimed; and he stooped down and began stuffing his rag into the hole under the water.

Will and other lads crowded forward, too, in wondering excitement.

Then from out the mist the launch they had heard suddenly appeared–a boat far larger and heavier than the Comet.

Jack and Caryll were amidships, the latter stooping over Dennis, when Jack, glancing round, saw the sharp prow of the launch coming straight at him.

With a quick cry of warning he sprang forward, making a grab at Will as he went in a gallant endeavour to drag him with him.

But his hold slipped as Caryll, warned by the cry, started to his feet, standing up almost in the very place from which Jack had jumped. He, too, saw the oncoming prow of the launch, and instinctively put up his hands as though to fend her off. The next moment she struck him with terrible force as she crashed into the side of the boat, and sent him flying overboard.

Jack saw Will fall like a log, and guessed that he must have been stunned by the blow. And at once, without a second’s hesitation, he sprang after him into the swirling waters.