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Read Ebook: Motor Matt's Submarine; or The Strange Cruise of the Grampus by Matthews Stanley R
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Ebook has 853 lines and 32957 words, and 18 pages
conning tower.
"I tell you somet'ing," said Carl Pretzel gloomily, "I don'd like hanging aroundt mitoudt any pitzness. Id geds on my nerfs, yah, so helup me. For six tays, now, ve haf peen loafing in New Orleans, und eferyt'ing vas so keviet as some Quaker meedings. Nodding habbens. Vy don'd ve hear from Downsent mit a hurry-oop call to ged busy, eh?"
For two or three days Carl had been restless. He had visited all the five-cent shows on Canal Street, he had made a sight-seeing tour through the French Quarter, he had gone out to Lake Pontchartrain, and he had done various other things to pass away the time and make some excuse for his idleness, but his energetic spirit was not to be muzzled.
"Take it easy, old ship," said Dick; "I'm as anxious as you are to trip anchor and slant away for some port where we can do things, but there's a notion rattling around in my locker that it won't be long now before we run afoul of something real exciting. We were to wait a week on Townsend, and the week will be up to-morrow. We'll hear from him then, and I'll bank on it."
"So will I," spoke up Matt. "Don't be so impatient, Carl. Adventures are all right, but there are a few other things in life for fellows like us to think about."
"T'anks, brofessor," answered Carl, humbly. "Vat else vould you t'ink aboudt oof you vanted to be among der life vones?"
"An academy, for instance," said Matt with a far-away look in his gray eyes, "and a spell of grubbing at the stores of knowledge preparatory to a college course."
"Helup!" gasped Carl; "bolice! Matt is t'inking oof cutting himseluf oudt oof our herd, Tick, und going to school. Shpeaking for meinseluf, ven I go to school I don'd go, for I play vat you call hookey undt look for atvendures. All has got to go mit shnap und chincher for me, und vere iss lifeliness in pooks? Ach, donnervetter!"
"Avast, there, matey!" said Dick. "Matt is right. Adventures are all well enough in their place, but a cruise in the waters of learning is a main fine thing--for those who can afford it. Some day Matt will be in an academy, and some other day he will be in Harvard or Yale, and the King of the Motor Boys will be done with the buzz-engines for always."
Matt pulled himself together and laughed softly.
"A message for you, Motor Matt. Just came off the wires."
"Sign the book, Dick," said Matt, tearing open the envelope.
"Vat you t'ink oof dot?" breathed Carl in a spasm of joyful excitement as the messenger boy went away. "Ve talk oof vanting t'ings to habben, und righdt off dey pegin. Ach, vat a luck! How easy id iss to be jeerful--somedimes!"
"Dot ain'd my guess, you bed you," palpitated Carl. "I t'ink id iss somepody asking vill ve go by der Spanish Main und hunt for birate shtuff. Vat a habbiness oof id iss!"
"You're both wrong," said Matt, a perplexed look on his face. "There has been some mistake in the telegraph office, and this message isn't for me."
"Not for you, mate?" queried Dick, picking the envelope off Matt's knee. "It's addressed plain enough--'Motor Matt, Care Snug Harbor Hotel, New Orleans.'"
"There's a different name inside," returned Matt.
"Vat id iss?" asked Carl, curiosity in a measure drawing the sting of disappointment.
"'Captain James Sixty,'" read off Matt, "'Snug Harbor Hotel, New Orleans, Louisiana.' The address is the same, but the name is different."
"Meppy der message iss for you, anyvay," persisted Carl. "Read him ofer und meppy you can dell."
"No, the message is part of the puzzle. Listen: 'In latitude twenty-eight degrees thirty minutes and twenty seconds north, longitude ninety-two degrees fourteen minutes and thirty-four seconds west two days ago. No wind and no drift since.' How could that possibly be for us, pards?"
"Id's some conuntrums, und dot's all aboudt id," grumbled Carl dejectedly. "Nodding habbens mit us more as you findt on a Suntay-school bicnic, und I'm going to ped mit meinseluf und hope for pedder t'ings in der morning. Good nighdt, bards."
With that Carl got up disgustedly and left the hotel office.
"How do you account for that, mate?" asked Dick.
"The messages got into the wrong envelopes," answered Matt. "Mr. James Sixty must be staying in this hotel. He's got my message and I've got his. That means we've got to find each other and exchange. Come on, Dick. We'll go over and talk with the clerk."
When they got to the desk they found a hulk of a man with a very red face talking with the night man in the office. The red-faced man seemed very much put out about something. He had a voice like a fog horn, and he was using it with a good deal of power. As Matt and Dick approached the desk the clerk suddenly put out his hand and stopped the flow of language.
"There's Motor Matt now," said he. "Here, Matt!" he called. "Have you got a telegram that don't belong to you? There's been a mix-up in messages, somehow, for Captain Sixty, here, has got one you ought to have. He was just asking me where you could be found."
"I was just coming to ask you about Captain Sixty," said Matt, holding out the message.
Sixty turned and snatched the message away.
"D'you read it?" he roared.
"Couldn't very well help it, captain," answered Matt. "If you'll look at the envelope you'll see it's addressed to me."
"I like some people's nerve," scowled the captain. "Here's your'n."
He flung a crumpled yellow sheet at Matt.
"It looks as though you'd read this," said Matt, "so I guess we're no more than even."
An angry gurgle came from Sixty's bull-like throat.
"I'll raise Cain if I find out this mix-up was done a-purpose," he growled.
"I don't see what anybody could want to do such a thing as that for," returned Matt.
The captain flung about and gave Matt an insolent up-and-down stare.
"Oh, you don't, huh?" he muttered. "Well, mebby it's well you don't."
The captain rolled away.
"The way to talk with him," said Dick resentfully, "is with a belaying pin. He looks like an old shellback, and I'll bet he's a bucko. But what's the message, mate?"
"I could have kissed the book on that, Matt," said Dick soberly. "Keelhaul me if I don't wish we had that blessed little flying machine this minute."
"I'm ready to do a caulk, if you are."
"Come on, then."
As they were leaving the office to go upstairs to their room Matt took a look around. Captain Sixty was sitting in a chair in the corner, his message opened out on his knee. But his fishy little orbs were not on the message, but on Matt; and there was a glittering distrust in them which Matt could not fail to notice. However, he said nothing about it to Dick, and very soon forgot it himself.
The following day rounded out the period of time Townsend had asked for.
After breakfast the boys hung about the hotel waiting for some communication from Prythania Street. Toward the middle of the forenoon a bell boy ran into the office and hurried to the place where Matt was sitting with Dick and Carl.
"You're wanted in the parlor, Motor Matt," said the boy.
"Dere id vas!" exclaimed Carl delightedly. "Ve got id now, Tick."
"Who wants me?" asked Matt.
"A young woman--and she says she's in a hurry."
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