Dave Porter in the South Seas: or, The Strange Cruise of the Stormy Petrel

CHAPTER XV
WINDING UP THE SCHOOL TERM

"I must say, I don't feel much like fun to-night," observed Dave, as he hurried up the stairs to dormitory No. 12. "I am anxious to get started on that trip to the Pacific."

"Oh, that will hold for one day longer," said Ben. "I wish I was going, too. Roger, have you got word yet?"

"No, but I expect a letter to-morrow. If it doesn't come, I'll have to wait till I get home."

Dave was in advance and was the first to throw open the dormitory door. As he did so, a powerful smell of onions greeted him.

"Great Cæsar!" he ejaculated. "Smells like an onion factory up here. Somebody must have been eating a dozen or two. Open the window, Phil, while I make a light."

"Hello, what's this!" spluttered Ben, and fell headlong over something. "A decayed cabbage! Who put that on the floor?"

"Look out, everybody!" shouted Roger. "I just stepped on something soft. Phew! Some decayed sweet potatoes!"

By this time Dave made a light, and all of the boys who had come up gazed around the dormitory. Then a cry of amazement and anger arose.

"This is a rough-house, and no mistake!"

"Somebody has been heaving decayed vegetables all over the room!"

"Yes, and ancient eggs, too! This is an outrage!"

"Here is a rotten cabbage in my trunk!" called out Roger. He held the object at arm's length. "I'd like to soak the fellow who did it!" he added, savagely.

With caution, all made an investigation. They found their clothing and other belongings disarranged, and decayed vegetables, stale eggs, and sour milk were everywhere in evidence. It was a mess bad enough to make them weep.

"We ought to report this," was Phil's comment. "I don't mind real fun, but this is going too far."

"This stuff must have come from the cellar," put in Buster Beggs. "I heard the head cook telling Pop Swingly that the place must be cleaned out, or he would report it to the doctor. Swingly said he didn't know the bad stuff was there."

"Well, Swingly didn't put the stuff here," put in Dave. "It's the work of some of the other fellows."

"I know where the janitor is!" cried Ben. "Shall I go down and question him? Maybe he can give us a pointer."

"Yes, go ahead," said Dave.

"And I'll go along," added the senator's son, and a moment later the two boys were off.

While the pair were gone, the others surveyed the damage done. The most of the decayed vegetables were swept into a corner, and then the boys did what they could toward straightening out their things.

"Here's a stale egg in my hat-box!" groaned Sam. "I'd like to throw it at some fellow's head!"

Dave had found his trunk open, and was searching the box with care. Suddenly he gave a loud cry:

"It's gone! It's gone!"

"What's gone?" queried Phil.

"The photograph! I had it among my books and papers, and the whole bunch is missing!"

"You mean the photo of the man who looks like you?" asked Sam, quickly.

"Yes." Dave gave a groan that came straight from his heart. "Oh, boys, I must get that back! I can't afford to lose it! I must get it back! It is worth more to me than anything in the world!" He was so agitated that he could scarcely control himself.

"Let us hunt for the picture," came from Buster Beggs, who knew about the photograph, and all started a search, which lasted until Ben and Roger returned.

"We've discovered the chaps who are responsible," said Ben, in triumph.

"They are Gus Plum and Nat Poole," asserted the senator's son. "Pop Swingly was throwing this stuff away in a hole back of the campus, when Plum and Poole came up. He heard them talking about playing a trick, but he didn't think they'd lower themselves by touching the mess. I suppose they thought that they were doing something quite smart."

"Dave's photo is gone," said Phil. "We have been hunting for it everywhere."

"You don't say! Dave, that is too bad."

"We ought to make Plum and Poole clean up this mess," came from Buster. "Let us try to capture them."

The suggestion met with instant approval, and the boys started to locate the bully and his crony. Plum and Poole were still below, but Shadow Hamilton announced that they were preparing to come up by a side stairs.

"We must get them, sure!" cried Dave. "I want that picture back, if nothing else."

Soon one boy, who was acting as a spy, announced the coming of Plum and Poole. The pair were allowed to reach the door of their dormitory, when they were pounced on from behind and made prisoners. They tried to escape, but the crowd was too many for them, and towels pulled down over their mouths kept them from raising an outcry.

"What's the meaning of this?" spluttered Nat Poole, when he found himself and his crony in dormitory No. 12, and with the door closed and locked.

"It means, in the first place, that I want my things back," said Dave, "and especially a photograph that was between my books."

"Humph! that photo is burned up," growled Gus Plum.

"Gus Plum!" gasped Dave. He could say no more.

"Plum, do you mean to say you burned that picture up?" demanded Roger. "If you did, you ought to be tarred and feathered for it!"

"He wouldn't dare to do it!" came boldly from Phil. "If he did, I know what Dave will do – have him sent to jail for it."

"Bah! You can't send me to jail for a little fun," blustered the bully.

"That is no fun, Plum," put in Ben. "That photo was of great importance. If you burned it up, you will surely suffer."

"Is it really burned or not?" muttered Dave, hoarsely. "Answer me, you – you cur!" and he caught the bully by the throat.

"Le-let go – don't strangle me! N-no – it's all right. I was only fooling."

"Then, where is it?"

"In the – the closet – on the top shelf."

Dave dropped his hold and ran to the closet pointed out. True enough, on the top shelf, in a back corner, were the books, with the precious photograph between them. Dave lost no time in placing the picture in an inside pocket.

"You're a fine fellow, not to take a bit of fun without getting mad," grumbled Gus Plum. He did not dare to say too much in such a crowd.

"So you call this fun?" remarked Phil, sarcastically. "Fun! to play the scavenger and bring this stuff up here? Well, I must say, I don't like your preference for a calling."

"Look here, you needn't call us scavengers!" howled Nat Poole. "I am a gentleman, I am!"

"Well, you brought this up here, you and Plum."

"It was only a – re – a joke. Everybody has got to put up with jokes to-night."

"Well, you are going to put up with a little hard work," came from Roger.

"Work?"

"Yes. You and Plum are going to clean up the muss and put this room in apple-pie order."

"Huh! I see myself doing it!" stormed the aristocratic youth.

"You will do it," observed Ben. "Isn't that so, fellows?"

There was a chorus of approvals.

"So take off your coats and get to work," said Dave, who felt easier, now that he had the picture back. "I guess you both need a little exercise."

"I'll be hanged if I do a stroke!" roared Gus Plum.

Hardly had he spoken, when Ben caught up a pitcher of ice-water and held it over the bully's head.

"Take your choice, Plum!" he cried, and allowed a little of the ice-water to trickle down the bully's backbone. There was a roar of fright and a shiver.

"Oh! Don't do that! Do you want to freeze me to death!"

"Now, Poole, maybe you want some," added Ben, advancing. Poole tried to retreat, stumbled, and sat down heavily on a decayed cabbage, which squashed beneath him. He set up a roar.

"Now see what you've done, Ben Basswood! My best gray suit, too! I'll fix you for this!"

"Both of you must get to work!" declared Dave. "We'll give you two minutes in which to get started. If you don't start – "

"We'll roll you in the decayed vegetables and kick you out," finished Buster Beggs. With the term so nearly ended, he was growing reckless. "I'll play timekeeper," and he drew out his watch.

Plum and Poole begged and protested, but all to no purpose, and, badly scared, took off their coats and cuffs, rolled up their sleeves, and began to clean up the muss they had made. While this was under way, the other boys of the dormitory came up and viewed the scene with amazement and satisfaction.

At last the dirty job was at an end, at least so far as Plum and Poole could go. They had worked hard and were bathed in perspiration, and their hands were in anything but a clean condition. Both were "boiling mad," but neither dared to say a word, for fear the others would make them do more.

"Now you have learned your trade," said Phil, finally, "you can graduate as full-fledged scavengers. When you go out, don't fail to place that bag of nasty stuff in a corner of your own room. The smell will give you both pleasant dreams."

"Phil Lawrence – " began the bully.

"Just wait till I – " came from Nat Poole.

"Silence!" cried Dave. "Not a word, or you'll be sorry. Take up the bag. Now, march!"

The door was flung open, and with the bag of messy stuff between them, Plum and Poole marched forth into the corridor and to the stairs leading to the back yard. The boys of dormitory No. 12 watched them out of sight, then returned to their room.

"I'll wager they are the maddest boys in the Hall," said Dave, when the door had been locked once more.

"Will they come back, do you think?" questioned Roger.

"I don't think so. But we can be on our guard."

They remained on guard for half an hour, but Plum and Poole did not reappear. They had had enough of their so-called fun, and they sneaked out of sight at the first opportunity.

But, without this, there was fun galore that night in the various dormitories. Two crowds of boys held feasts, to which even the monitors were invited, and dormitories Nos. 3 and 4 got into a pillow fight, in the midst of which Job Haskers appeared. The teacher was knocked over by a pillow, and then some other pillows were piled on top of him. After that he was hustled out of the room, and, completely bewildered, he rolled down the broad stairs, bumping on every step. Then Pop Swingly came up, followed by "Horsehair," the carriage driver, to quell the disturbance, and each received a pitcher of ice-water over his head, which made both beat a hasty retreat. But by one o'clock the school quieted down, and all of the pupils went to sleep as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

CHAPTER XVI
PREPARING FOR A LONG TRIP

"Whoop! hurrah! Off we go! Good-by to Oak Hall!"

The carryall belonging to the school was moving away from the campus. It was loaded with students and behind it came two wagons, full of trunks and dress-suit cases. Back on the campus a crowd was assembled to bid the departing ones good-by.

"Write to me often!"

"Don't forget, Tom! Atlantic City, middle of August!"

"Be sure and ask him to join the team!"

"Yes, we are going to Casco Bay. Come up, if you can."

"Tell Jack – Say, get off my toes, will you? Tell Jack to come up to Lake Titus, back of Malone. We'll give him a dandy – "

"Toot! toot! toot! Now then, Horsehair, start 'em up, and be lively, or I'll miss that connection for Albany!"

"I'll start 'em up, all right, if you young gents will give me a show," responded the driver. "Say, Buster, don't use the whip. Give me the reins, Master Porter."

"Don't you want me to drive, Horsehair?"

"No, I want – Say, you in the back, give me my hat, will you?" shouted the driver, turning around. "I ain't a-going a step till I git that hat!"

"All right, Horsehair, darling!" replied Sam Day. "I thought I'd keep it to remember you by, but if you want – "

"Which puts me in mind of a story," said Shadow Hamilton. He had caught the humor of the occasion. "A lady once – "

"No stories allowed," broke in Phil.

"I can't tell a story unless I speak it aloud," answered Shadow, tartly.

"Phew, what a pun!" came from Roger. "Somebody please dump him off for that."

"Hold tight, all of you!" called out the anxious driver, and with a lurch the carryall made a turn and started out of the academy grounds and along the broad highway leading to Oakdale. All of the boys shouted themselves hoarse, and horns and rattles added to the din. Such a thing as holding the students in was out of the question, and Doctor Clay and his assistants did not attempt it. The doctor and Andrew Dale smiled broadly and waved their hands, and only Job Haskers looked bored. The other teachers were busy in the building and did not show themselves.

This was the first load to leave, and another was ready to depart directly after dinner. Nearly all of the boys were in high spirits, and sang and "cut up" all the way to the town, much to the terror of Jackson Lemond, known only to the lads as Horsehair, because he carried the signs of his calling continually.

If there was one boy in the crowd particularly sober at times, it was Shadow Hamilton. Doctor Clay had communicated with his parents, and Mr. Hamilton and the master of the school had had a long conference regarding the pins and stamps that had been taken. Shadow's father had agreed to pay for the missing articles, if they could not be recovered inside of the next few months. In the meantime, a private detective was to be called in to watch the movements of Gus Plum.

At Oakdale the party split into three parts, one to go up the railroad line, another to go down, and the third to take the connection for Albany. Phil, Roger, Ben, and Dave took the same train, and managed to get seats together.

"I wish I had heard from my folks," remarked Roger. "But I think it is all right," he added, hopefully.

"Don't be too sure, Roger," said Dave. "I don't want you to be disappointed."

"I shall write to you as soon as I get home and can talk to my father," said Phil to Dave. "We'll be able to arrange everything without much trouble, I am sure."

Near the end of their journey Dave and Ben found themselves alone, Roger and Phil having said good-by at places further up the road. As they neared Crumville, the heart of the country boy beat quicker. How many things had happened since he had left that town to go to Oak Hall!

"I see the old white church steeple!" cried Ben, as they came out of a patch of timber. "Looks natural, doesn't it?"

"I feel as if I had been away a year, instead of a few months," answered Dave. He was peering anxiously out of the window. "Here we come to the station, and, yes, there is Mr. Wadsworth's automobile, and Mr. Wadsworth himself and Jessie!"

Soon the train came to a halt, and they piled out, dress-suit cases in hand, and walked over to the automobile.

"How do you do?" cried Jessie Wadsworth, a beautiful miss of thirteen, with soft eyes and golden curls. "I told papa you would be on this train."

"How do you do?" returned Dave, dropping his suit case to lift his cap and shake hands. "I hope you are well."

"Oh, I am," replied the miss, shaking back her curls. "How do you do, Ben?" And then there was more handshaking.

Both of the boys were invited to enter the automobile, and did so, and in a few minutes Ben found himself at his own door. Then the machine was turned toward the Wadsworth mansion.

"I like to go riding with papa," explained Jessie. "I never go out with our man, though. Not since – you know!" and she turned a pair of grateful eyes upon Dave that made the boy color up.

"The machine appears to be perfectly safe, since we have had it repaired," put in Mr. Wadsworth. "But our man is better with the horses."

At the mansion Mrs. Wadsworth, an aristocratic but motherly lady, came out to greet Dave, followed by Caspar Potts, whose face was wreathed in smiles. All told, it was a homecoming that would have warmed the heart of any lad, and it made Dave forget completely that he was a "poorhouse nobody."

"You must tell me all about everything," said Jessie, after a somewhat elaborate supper had been served. "I don't want to miss a single thing!"

"Seems to me you are cutting out a big job for Dave," laughed her father.

"Well, I guess I can tell all she'll wish to hear," answered the youth, and seated at one end of a couch, with Jessie at the other, he told much of his life at Oak Hall, with its studies, its pranks, and its athletic sports. Dave could see the humorous side of a thing as well as anybody, and some stories he told made Mr. and Mrs. Wadsworth laugh as well as Jessie. On his trials he touched but lightly, for he could not dream of giving his little lady friend pain.

On the following day Nat Poole came home, and Dave met the aristocratic youth in one of the stores of Crumville. Poole gave him a glassy stare and did not speak. A few minutes later Dave met Ben.

"Just ran into Poole," said the latter, "and what do you think, he made out that he didn't see me."

"He was in Parsons' store, but he wouldn't speak to me, either," answered Dave. "He must feel awfully sore. But I shan't mind."

"Nor I, Dave. I never did like that fellow, and I don't like his father, either. By the way, have you heard anything more about the farm that belongs to Professor Potts?"

"Yes, and I am glad, and so is he, that we didn't let Nat's father get hold of it. The new trolley company is going to put a line past it, and Mr. Wadsworth says it will be quite valuable in time."

Two days passed, and then Dave got long letters from Phil and Roger. Senator Morr had been to see Mr. Lawrence and had arranged to have his son go on the long trip to the South Seas. Roger was almost wild with joy, and said he was going to prepare for the trip immediately.

The letter from Phil told Dave that the start for San Francisco was to be made on the following Monday morning. All the boys were to meet at the Grand Central Depot, in New York City, and take the limited express which left for Chicago at noon.

"I will go with you as far as New York," announced Mr. Wadsworth. "I wish to see that your journey is safely begun."

The last days of the week were busy ones for Dave. A steamer trunk was procured for him, and into this was packed his outfit, including a semi-nautical suit that fitted him to perfection and gave him quite a sailor look.

"I suppose you'll be a regular sailor by the time you come back," said Jessie.

"I don't know about that," answered Dave. "I am not going for that purpose," and his tone grew serious.

"Oh, I know that, Dave. I hope you find what you are going for. But – but – "

"But what, Jessie?"

"Oh, I – I don't want you to leave us, Dave. If you find a father, or an uncle, or brother, or somebody like that, I suppose you won't stay with us any more." And the young miss pouted engagingly.

"I'll certainly not care to leave you, Jessie," he answered, gently. "But you cannot blame me for wanting to find out who I am, I am sure."

"Oh, no, Dave!"

"I don't want to remain a nobody and have folks shun me on that account."

"Who would do such a thing?" she asked, her eyes opening widely.

"Oh, a good many folks."

"It is very mean of them," came from the little miss, firmly. "But, never mind, Dave, I'll not shun you," she went on, catching his hand and squeezing it as hard as she could. "We're going to be just like a brother and sister always, aren't we?"

"If you say so."

"Don't you say so, Dave?"

"Yes, Jessie."

"Then that is settled, and we won't talk about it any more. Shun you! I just want to see them do it! I won't speak to anybody that does such a thing!" And Jessie looked as tragic as a miss of thirteen can look.

Among the things provided by thoughtful Mr. Wadsworth for Dave was a money belt, and in this was placed a fair amount of bankbills, and also a letter of credit.

"Mr. Wadsworth, you are more than kind!" cried the country boy, and something like tears stood in his honest eyes. "How can I ever repay you?"

"In one way only, Dave. By making a real man of yourself."

"I shall do my best, sir."

"Then that is all I ask."

Billy Dill had been communicated with, and Caspar Potts went after the tar and brought him to Crumville, where Oliver Wadsworth procured the sailor a new outfit. Billy Dill's health was now restored completely, and the only thing he suffered from was a slight loss of memory, and even that defect seemed to be gradually wearing away.

"I'll be the happiest tar afloat when I have the rolling ocean under me once more," said he to Dave. "Cables an' capstans! but I do love the salt breeze!"

"Well, you'll soon get enough of it," answered the boy. "We have a long trip before us."