Kitobni o'qish: «The Rover Boys Down East: or, The Struggle for the Stanhope Fortune»

INTRODUCTION

My Dear Boys: This is a complete story in itself, but forms the fifteenth volume of the “Rover Boys Series for Young Americans.”

Twelve years ago the line was started with the publication of the first three stories, “The Rover Boys at School,” “On the Ocean,” and “In the Jungle.” I earnestly hoped that the young people would like the tales, but never did I anticipate the tremendously enthusiastic welcome which was given to the volumes from the start, nor the steady sale, ever increasing, which has been accorded the series up to the present time. The publication of the first three books immediately called for a fourth, “The Rover Boys Out West,” and then followed yearly “On the Great Lakes,” “In Camp,” “On Land and Sea,” “On the River,” “On the Plains,” “In Southern Waters,” “On the Farm,” “On Treasure Isle,” and then “At College,” where we last left our heroes.

Dick, Tom and Sam are older than when we first made their acquaintance and told how they went to Putnam Hall. They are now college boys, attending a well-known institution of learning in the middle-west. But though older, they are as lively as ever, and Tom, at least, is just as full of fun. They have a great struggle to save the Stanhope fortune, and have to work hard to get the best of several enemies. They take a long journey Down East, and their adventures are both mysterious and exciting.

Again I take this opportunity to thank my friends, both young and old, for all the nice things they have said about my books. I am more than sorry that I cannot answer all the letters that pour in upon me from everywhere praising the stories. I earnestly hope the present volume will please all my readers and do them some good.

Affectionately and sincerely yours,

Edward Stratemeyer

CHAPTER I
A GAME OF BASEBALL

“Hurrah! that’s the way to do it!”

“Now, then, Tom, see if you can’t bring Dick home!”

“Give him a swift one, Frank! Don’t let him hit it!” cried Sam Rover, merrily.

“I’ll knock it down into the river!” retorted Tom Rover, as he caught up a bat and walked to the home plate.

“I’m waiting for you, Tom!” sang out Dick Rover, who had just reached second base on a beautiful drive to right field. “Come now, it’s time we tied the score.”

“Everybody in the game!” yelled Stanley Browne, who was in the coacher’s box. “Here is where we do ’em up!”

“Get ready to run, Dick!” came from Songbird Powell. “Tom is going to land it on the other side of the river.”

“If he does that I’ll walk home,” answered Dick, with a grin.

“Now then, here is where Tom misses!” called out Sam, who was behind the bat, and he thumped his fist in his catcher’s mitt. “Give him a double-ender curve, Frank.”

“Oh, I’ll give him a regular corkscrew curl,” retorted Frank Holden, who occupied the pitcher’s box. “Tom, prepare to die!” And he drew back to pitch the ball.

Eighteen of the students of Brill College were having a game of baseball on the athletic field of that institution of learning. The regular season for baseball was at an end, and the youths had fixed up their nines to suit themselves, with Dick Rover as captain of one side and Frank Holden as captain on the other. On Dick’s side were his brother Tom, and a number of their chums, while Sam was doing the catching for Frank.

It was only a friendly contest and all of the students were in the best of spirits. The main examinations for the term were practically over, and in a few days more the students were to scatter for the summer vacation.

It was the ending of the fourth inning and the score stood 6 to 4 in favor of Frank Holden’s nine. If Tom should manage to bring both Dick and himself in it would tie the score. But Tom was not known for his home-run qualities.

Frank Holden made a signal to Sam and then sent in a low, swift ball. Tom made a swing at it. But he was too slow.

“Strike one!” sang out Will Faley, the umpire. “Try it some more, Tom.”

Again the ball came in and this time Tom struck at it with all his might.

Crack! The ashen stick met the horsehide and the ball went whizzing off to the right of the home plate, in the direction of a number of students who were crossing the grounds.

“Foul!” sang out the umpire, as the sphere curved through the air.

“You can’t get it, Sam!” called out Max Spangler. “It’s too far off already!”

“Look out, you fellows!” yelled Frank, from the pitcher’s box. “If you don’t – ”

Before he could finish the crowd walking across the grounds looked up and commenced to scatter, to give Sam a chance to catch the ball, which had gone quite high in the air. But before the youngest Rover could reach the sphere down it came – straight on the fancy straw hat of a dudish youth, crushing the article over its wearer’s head.

“Whoop! there’s a strike for you, Tom!” murmured Dick.

“Do you call that knocking the ball over the river?” demanded Songbird, dryly.

“Here’s a case where a straw shows how the ball blows,” misquoted Stanley Browne.

“Hi! hi! what do you mean by smashing my hat!” roared Dudd Flockley, the student who had been thus assaulted. “Who did this, I demand to know?”

“I knocked the ball – but I didn’t aim for your hat,” answered Tom. And as Dudd Flockley held up the damaged hat he could not help but grin.

“You did it on purpose, Tom Rover!” growled the dudish student. “You needn’t deny it!”

“Nonsense, Dudd!” put in Stanley. “He wanted to make a home run – he wasn’t aiming at your hat at all.”

“I know better!” answered the other student, bitterly. “Say, Tom Rover, it’s up to you to buy me a new hat,” he added.

“All right, if that’s the way you feel about it,” answered Tom. “You get the hat and I’ll pay for it. But I didn’t smash it on purpose, Dudd.”

“That hat cost me five dollars, and I don’t know where to get one like it,” growled the dudish pupil.

“Oh, I can tell you where to get a hat like that!” piped in a drawling voice. “Try the Melrose English Shop, on Broadway. They have all styles, don’t you know.”

“Good for William Philander Tubbs!” cried Dick. “He knows the directory on straw hats.”

“Huh! Think I’m going all the way to New York for a new hat?” growled Dudd Flockley. “I want one to go home in.”

“Maybe I can lend you an old one,” suggested Tom, dryly.

“I don’t want your old hat,” growled Dudd Flockley. “I’ll get a new one – and you can foot the bill!” and he turned and walked away, his face full of sourness.

“The same old Flockley,” whispered Sam to his brother. “After all we did for him, too!”

“You beware of Dudd,” put in Songbird, who was near. “He pretends to be friendly, since you put in a good word for him to the doctor, but, just the same, he has got it in for you.”

“Play ball!” called out the umpire; and then the ball was thrown down to Frank Holden, and the game went on. Tom gave one more glance in the direction of Dudd Flockley and saw that the dudish student had stopped in his walk, turned around, and was glaring at him savagely.

To my old readers the lads who have thus far taken a part in this story will need no special introduction. But for the benefit of others who have not read the former volumes in this “Rover Boys Series,” let me state that Dick, Tom and Sam Rover were three brothers, who, when at home, lived with their father, Anderson Rover, and their Uncle Randolph and Aunt Martha, on a beautiful farm called Valley Brook.

From the farm, and while their father was in Africa, the three boys had been sent to a military academy, as related in the first volume of this series, called “The Rover Boys at School.” At the school they made a large number of friends, and also a few enemies, and had “the best time ever,” as Sam expressed it.

A term at school was followed by a trip on the ocean, as set down in the second volume of this series, and then by a journey to Africa, where the boys went to locate their father, who had become a captive of the natives. After that came a trip out West, to locate a mine belonging to the Rovers, and then trips to the Great Lakes, and to the mountains, and then, returning to the school, the lads went into camp with the other cadets.

“I guess we had better settle down now,” said Dick. But this was not to be. Not much later they took a long trip on land and sea, and followed this up by a voyage on the Ohio and the Mississippi Rivers on a flatboat. Then came some thrilling adventures on the plains, and a little later found the dauntless boys in Southern waters, where they solved the mystery of a deserted steam yacht.

“The farm for mine!” said Tom, after traveling north from the Gulf, and all of the boys were glad to take it easy for some weeks, and also get ready to graduate from Putnam Hall. They had an idea they were to go directly from the military school to college. But something turned up which made them change their plans.

Through Mr. Rover it was learned that a small fortune belonging to a certain Stanhope estate was missing. It had been secreted on an island of the West Indies, and it was settled that the Rovers and some of their friends should go in quest of it.

The boys were particularly anxious to locate this treasure, and with good reason. While at Putnam Hall they had made the acquaintance of Dora Stanhope and also of Nellie and Grace Laning, Dora’s cousins. From the very start Dick was attracted to Dora, and now the pair were practically engaged to be married. Tom had taken a particular liking to Nellie Laning and it must be confessed that Sam was equally smitten with Grace.

It was learned that the treasure had been willed to Mr. Stanhope, and consequently, on his death, it had become part of his estate, which in turn had been willed in part to his wife and Dora, with a small share to Mrs. Laning, his sister.

“We’ll get that treasure and make the girls happy,” declared Dick, and how the whole crowd set off on the quest has already been told in the thirteenth volume of this series, entitled: “The Rover Boys on Treasure Isle.” The treasure was also claimed by two of their enemies, Sid Merrick and his nephew, Tad Sobber, and they did all they could to gain possession of the valuables. But the treasure was at last brought safely to this country, and then it was learned that Sid Merrick had been lost at sea in a hurricane. Tad Sobber was saved, and carried on a passing vessel to England.

“And now for college!” cried all of the Rover boys, and wondered to what institution of learning they were to go.

“How would you like to go to Brill?” asked Mr. Rover. “It is a fine place, located in one of our middle-western states, and the head of it, Doctor John Wallington, is an old friend of mine.”

The boys had heard that Dora, Grace and Nellie were going to an institution known as Hope Seminary, not far from the town of Ashton. As soon as they learned that Brill College was situated less than two miles from Hope they decided without hesitation to go to the institution their parent had mentioned.

“We’ll be near the girls, and we ought to have lots of good times,” said Tom.

“It will be our own fault if we don’t,” Dick had answered.

How the brothers went to Brill has already been related in the volume entitled “The Rover Boys at College.” At Brill, as at Putnam Hall, they quickly made a number of friends, not the least of whom were Stanley Browne, Max Spangler, a German student, and Allen Charter, the leading senior. They also had with them their former school chums, John Powell, better known as Songbird because of his cleverness in writing and reciting doggerel, and William Philander Tubbs, a student whose entire spare time was spent in buying things to wear of the latest fashions, and in seeking the society of his young lady friends.

At Brill the Rovers soon came into contact with the dudish pupil, Dudd Flockley, and also with two bullies, Jerry Koswell and Bart Larkspur. Led by Koswell, who was a thoroughly bad egg, the three tried their best to make trouble for the Rovers, and finally succeeded. But the rascals overreached themselves, and when they were exposed Koswell and Larkspur became so frightened that they ran away from Brill and refused to return. Dudd Flockley remained, and he pleaded so earnestly to be forgiven that the Rovers finally decided to drop the case against him, and spoke a good word for him to the head of the college, and he was allowed to continue at Brill.

“I guess Flockley has learned his lesson,” said Dick. But it looked as if he might be mistaken, for Flockley, as soon as he felt himself secure at Brill, acted in anything but a grateful manner. Yet he was not as assertive as he had been, for he missed the companionship and support of his former cronies.

With the fortune in their possession, and Sid Merrick dead, the Stanhopes and Lanings had felt secure of their wealth. But, returning from England, Tad Sobber had gone to a shyster lawyer, and put in a claim, and the lawyer had obtained a court injunction, restraining anybody from touching a dollar of the money. This depressed the girls greatly, and made them, for a time, leave Hope. But in the end, the injunction was dissolved, and the Stanhopes and Lanings were told that they could do as they pleased with the fortune.

“That’s the best news yet!” Dick had said, on hearing it. “I guess that will put a spoke in Tad Sobber’s wheel.”

“It will take one out, you mean,” returned Tom, with a sly grin. “Wonder what Tad will do next?”

“He can’t do anything,” had come from Sam. “He is knocked out clean and clear. I always said he had no right to the fortune. That claim of Sid Merrick’s was a fake pure and simple.”

“I believe you,” Dick answered. “Just the same, I feel, somehow, that Tad won’t give up even yet.”

“But what can he do?” his two brothers had asked.

“I don’t know – but he’ll try to do something; see if he doesn’t.”

A few days later had come in some particulars of the case. After the injunction had been dissolved Tad Sobber and his lawyer had gotten into a big row and Sobber had ended by blackening the legal gentleman’s left eye. Then Sobber had mysteriously disappeared, but the next day he had sent a rambling letter to Mrs. Stanhope, stating that, even if thrown out of court, he considered that the fortune from Treasure Isle belonged to him, and, sooner or later, he meant to gain possession of it.

“We’ll have to watch out for Tad Sobber,” had been Dick’s comment, on learning the news. “He is growing desperate, and there is no telling what he will do next.”

“He’s the same old sneak he was at Putnam Hall,” declared Tom.

“This will scare Mrs. Stanhope, and Mrs. Laning, too,” had been Sam’s comment.

“And the girls,” his oldest brother had added. “I wish we could round Tad Sobber up, and put him where he couldn’t worry them any more.”

“Maybe he’ll drop out of sight,” said Tom. But this was not to be. Tad Sobber was to cause a great deal of trouble, as we shall learn in the near future. The young rascal had convinced himself that the Stanhope fortune belonged to him, and he meant to leave no stone unturned to get possession of it.

CHAPTER II
THE FIRE ON THE STEAMER

“That’s the way to do it!”

The cry came as Tom knocked a neat liner out to center field. He managed to get to first base with ease, while Dick, on the alert, slid to the home plate just before the ball came in.

“That gives us five runs, anyway!” was Stanley’s comment. “Now, Spud, see what you can do.”

“Here is where I knock one across the river and back,” declared Spud Jackson, as he came forward with a bat. “Better chase your men away out,” he added to Frank Holden.

“They can use nets,” answered the pitcher with a grin.

Spud had a ball and a strike called on him and then met the leather and sent it to the shortstop. Tom had to run for second and he legged it with might and main. But the ball got there ahead of him and he was put out, and so was the runner at first.

“Wow!” cried Songbird. “Thought you were going to knock the ball across the river and back, Spud.”

“So I did,” answered Spud, as he walked up from first. “It landed on the other side, bounced back, and the shortstop got it. Fierce luck, eh?” And he cut a face that made many of the students standing by laugh outright.

In the next inning the other side added two runs to their total. One of these runs was made by Sam, much to the youngest Rover’s satisfaction.

“We’ve got you going!” he cried, to his brothers and the others. “Might as well give up.”

“Huh! we haven’t started yet,” retorted Tom. He turned to William Philander Tubbs, who had strolled near. “Say, Tubby, old boy, lend me your green socks for luck, will you?”

“Oh, Tom, please don’t ask me to – ah – lend those socks,” pleaded William Philander, innocently. “They are the only pair of that shade I have, and the young ladies say – ”

“They can’t resist you when you have them on,” finished Tom. “All right, if you want me to lose the game, keep the socks,” and the fun-loving Rover put on a mournful look.

“But, my dear Tom, how can my socks have anything to do with the game?” questioned the dude, helplessly.

“Why, it’s a psychological phenomena, Tublets. Sort of an inter-mental telepathy, so to speak – a rhomboid compendium indexus, as it were. Of course you understand,” said Tom, soberly.

“Why – ah – I don’t think I do, Tom,” stammered the dude. “But I can’t loan the socks, really I can’t!” And he backed away with all possible haste, while some of the students poked each other in the ribs and some laughed outright.

“Now then, here is where we go at ’em, hammer and tongs!” cried Dick, as he walked to the plate. And he met the first ball pitched and lined a beautiful three-bagger to deep center.

“Hurrah! That’s the way to do it!” yelled Tom. “Leg it, old man, leg it!”

“We’ve struck our gait!” sang out another player. “Now, Tom, you’ve got to bring him home sure.”

Tom was on the alert and after one strike managed to send the ball down into left field. Dick came home and the batter got to second, although it was a tight squeeze.

Spud was up next, and this time his face wore a “do-or-die” look. He had two balls called on him, and then whack! his bat struck the ball and the horsehide went sailing far over the right fielder’s head.

“Say, that’s a beaut!”

“Come on in, Tom!”

“Make it a two-bagger, Spud!”

“You can get to third if you try!” yelled Dick, and Spud did try and landed in a cloud of dust on third base just a second before the ball got there.

“Now then, Wilson, bring Spud in,” said Dick, to the next fellow at the bat.

“Make it a homer and bring yourself in too, Wilson,” added Tom.

“By chimminy! Make him two home runs while you are at it alretty!” cried Max Spangler, with a broad smile. Since arriving at Brill the German American lad had become quite a baseball “fan.”

“Hi, there, you fellows!” came unexpectedly from the center fielder.

“What’s the matter?” yelled back Frank Holden, stepping out of the pitcher’s box and turning around.

“Something is wrong on the river.”

“Wrong on the river?” queried several, in a chorus.

“Yes. Don’t you hear the screaming?”

“Time!” cried the umpire, and the game came to a stop.

“Say, that is somebody screaming!” exclaimed Stanley. “Sounds like a girl’s voice.”

“It’s from that excursion boat!” said another student. And as he spoke he pointed to a small river steamer, gaily decorated with flags and bunting, that had appeared around a bend of the stream.

“Why, that’s the Thistle!” ejaculated Dick.

“The Thistle?” repeated Sam. “Oh, Dick, that’s the steamer the girls from Hope were going to use for their picnic up the river!”

“I know it.”

“Do you suppose Grace and Nellie and Dora are on board?”

“More than likely.”

“What’s the trouble?”

“They are yelling like Indians!” cried the center fielder. “Come on, something is wrong, sure!”

On the instant the game of baseball was forgotten, and like a drove of wild horses the college boys raced down to the edge of the river, which at this point was over a quarter of a mile wide but quite shallow. As they did this they heard the steam whistle of the Thistle sound out loud and long.

“That’s a call for assistance, that’s certain,” said Dick.

“Oh, I hope the girls are safe!” murmured his youngest brother.

“She’s on fire, that’s what’s the matter!” exclaimed Tom. “See the smoke coming from the cabin!”

“Fire! fire! fire!” was the cry taken up on all sides. “The steamer is on fire!”

“Why don’t they run to the dock?” asked one of the students.

“Can’t – it isn’t deep enough,” was the reply. “They are going to dredge out the channel this summer.”

“They are turning towards shore!” came, a second later, and then it could be seen that the Thistle had turned partly around. But the next instant the vessel ran into a mud shoal and there she stuck.

“Come on, let us get out and help those who are on board!” cried Dick, and started on a run for the college boathouse, located two hundred yards further up the shore.

The alarm was now general, and fully two score of students and several of the faculty, as well as some workmen, were running for the boathouse, to get out the rowboats and other craft usually housed there.

“Stanley, how about your gasolene launch?” questioned Dick, as they raced along the river bank.

“She’s all ready to use,” was the answer. “I had her out a little while early this morning.”

“Then I’ll go out with you in that, if you say so.”

“Sure,” was the ready response.

“Want us?” queried Tom.

“You and Sam better bring another boat,” answered Dick. “The more the better. The Thistle must have quite a crowd on board – if all the Hope students went on that picnic.”

“Grace said about thirty girls were going,” replied Sam. “Oh, if they get burned – ”

“They won’t wait for that – they’ll jump into the river first,” answered Tom soberly. For the time being all the fun was knocked out of him.

While talking, the boys had been busy with the boats. Stanley’s gasolene launch was pushed out, and he and Dick leaped aboard, and the latter set the flywheel going. The engine was in good running order, and soon a steady put-put! sounded out, and the craft headed for the burning steamer. But, as quick as Dick and Stanley were in their movements, Tom and Sam were equally alert, and as the launch moved away Tom and his brother scrambled into a rowboat, oars in hand, and caught fast to the power craft with a boathook.

“You can pull us as well as not,” said Tom.

“Right you are,” answered Stanley. “And the quicker both boats get to that steamer the better.”

As they drew closer to the Thistle they saw a volume of smoke roll up from the engine room. A barrel of oil had taken fire and the crew had found it impossible to subdue the conflagration. As yet the fire was only a small one, but there was no telling how soon it would spread, and the seminary girls on board were panic-stricken, more especially as the teacher who chanced to be with them was herself an extremely nervous person.

“Oh, girls, what shall we do?” asked Grace Laning, after the first dreadful alarm was at an end.

“Perhaps we had better jump overboard,” suggested Nellie Laning. “I don’t want to be burned alive!” And her wide-open eyes showed her terror.

“Don’t jump yet,” said Dora Stanhope, as bravely as she could.

“Oh, girls, we’ll be burned to death! I know it, I feel it!” wailed another seminary student.

“We are near Brill College,” said another. “Let us cry for help!” And then commenced the screaming that reached the players on the ball field and others near the water’s edge.

In the meantime, the captain of the steamer, aided by his men, was doing all in his power to subdue the flames. But oil when on fire is a hard thing to fight. The blaze was close to the engine room, and presently both the engineer and the firemen were driven from their posts. Then the steamer became unmanageable and drifted on the mud shoal, as already mentioned.

“We’ll have to get out the small boats,” cried the captain. But even as he spoke he knew that the small boats were of no avail, for they had not been used since the Thistle had been put into commission, three years before, and they were dried out, and would fill with water as soon as unshipped. Life preservers were to be had, and a few of the girls were thoughtful enough to supply themselves with these.

“Crowd her, Stanley!” cried Dick, as the launch headed straight for the burning steamer.

“I’ll give her all she will stand,” responded the owner of the launch, and he turned the lever down another notch. The revolutions of the flywheel increased, and the water was churned up in a white foam at the stern.

“Look out, back there, that you aren’t swamped!” yelled Stanley to Tom and Sam.

“We’ll look out!” was Sam’s answer. “Only hurry up, that’s all!”

As the launch and the rowboat it was towing neared the burning steamer the college students gazed eagerly at the forms on the forward deck of the Thistle. Nearly all of the seminary girls were still screaming, and some were waving their arms wildly.

“Help! help! help!” was the cry wafted over the water.

“We are coming!” yelled Dick. “Don’t jump overboard unless you are good swimmers!”

“Dick! Dick!” screamed Dora. “Oh, Dick!”

“Dora!” he answered.

“Oh, Tom!” came from Nellie. “Please take us off!”

“Sam, you are just in time!” added Grace.

“We’ll get you off – don’t worry!” cried Dick. “Just wait till we can bring the boats alongside and then – ”

He was interrupted by a mad yell from one of the men on the steamer.

“Hurry up and leave!” yelled the man in terror. “We can’t get at the boilers no more and I guess she is going to blow up!”