The Battleship Drew NearerThe Battleship Drew Nearer.
The Battleship Drew Nearer
The Battleship Drew Nearer.
Slowly the majestic, gray craft drew nearer to the little houseboat.
The party crowded forward. No one spoke.
Nailed to their flagstaff, two torn and ragged sheets that had so long appealed in vain for rescue flapped and rustled in the wind.
The women and Jeff saw Lieutenant Lawton raise the rifle to position. Still he waited five, ten minutes. All this time the beautiful battleship steamed nearer. Now her prow was just across the line of the stern of the houseboat. The houseboat party could see the Stars and Stripes floating gloriously in the breeze.
While it was easy for the passengers of the "Merry Maid" to behold an immense battleship it was another matter for the crew on the man-of-war to discover the small pleasure craft adrift on the waters.
Jimmy Lawton fired his rifle. The signal of distress rang sharp and true. The clear air carried the sound magnificently.
At first there was no response from the battleship.
"She has not heard us!" exclaimed impatient Madge in despair.
"Wait!" commanded the young lieutenant.
A splendid boom broke on the air. It was the answering salute from the war vessel. She had heeded the call of the "Merry Maid."
Jimmy repeated his signal of distress. A few moments after the great battleship slowed down. A small boat was dropped over her side. A boat's crew in their blue uniforms rowed swiftly out to the houseboat.
A voice called up: "Who's there, and what can we do for you?"
"Lieutenant James M. Lawton, U.S.N., with six friends, five of them women," returned Jimmy Lawton. "We have drifted from land in a houseboat and ask you to take us aboard."
Soon after Miss Jenny Ann and the girls were safe on board a battleship belonging to the American Navy. The officer in command gave them his hand of welcome. A group of sailors, their faces beaming with curiosity and kindness, crowded as near them as discipline would permit.
The man-of-war took on headway again. Her engines thumped. The superb ship began to move. The houseboat party knew that their peril was over. Home and friends lay safe ahead of them.
Yet neither Miss Jenny Ann nor one of her four girls looked perfectly happy.
"Won't you let me show you to your cabins?" one of the officers suggested.
Reluctantly the five women turned away. But they could not help letting their glances linger with mournful affection on the departing ghost of the poor "Merry Maid." The little boat rocked forlornly on the waves, once more deserted by her friends and owners.
Lieutenant Lawton whispered to Madge and Phyllis: "As soon as we get into Hampton Roads I promise you to send out a schooner to search these waters until she finds your houseboat. The 'Merry Maid' will be lonely without her passengers, I've no doubt. But I do not believe that any harm will come to her."
The man-of-war was expected to enter the harbor of Hampton Roads some time during the afternoon. The girls sat on deck with the captain, who showed them the distant lightship on Cape Charles, and finally the point of land along the Virginia coast where the first English settlers landed in America, on April 26, 1607.
Captain Moore was tremendously interested in the girls and their adventures and experiences. When the ramparts of Fortress Monroe lay off the quarter he reluctantly said good-bye. But he beckoned Madge away from the other chums and walked with her slowly to the prow of his great ship.
"Miss Morton," he said kindly, "I want to talk to you alone. Your chaperon has told me something of your history. Your father was a classmate of mine at Annapolis, and one of the best friends I ever had."
Madge choked and was silent. She did not know what to say, what questions to ask.
"I know that in after years your father got into serious trouble. He was court-martialed because of cruelty to a subordinate," Captain Moore went on. He shook his head gravely. "I never understood it. Robert Morton was one of the kindest and tenderest of men. He was rash and quick-tempered, but he never did a cruel trick as a boy, and a lad shows the stuff the man is made of."
"Captain Moore!" Madge's voice shook, she was obliged to keep a tight hold on the railing of the ship to steady herself, but she looked her new friend squarely in the face, her own white with pain, "do you know if my father is alive?"
Captain Moore was startled. "It can't be that you don't know that, child?" he protested.
"But I don't," she said bravely. "I have always just taken it for granted that he died when I was a baby, because I never saw him nor heard from him. Lately I have had reason to think that he may just have disappeared after his trouble. It has been so long that perhaps he may have died since."
Captain Moore took her hand in his. He looked at her earnestly. She was like the boy he remembered in the olden days, the same deep-toned auburn hair, the same clear blue eyes and skin that flushed and paled so readily, the same proud spirit.
"I do not know whether your father is dead or alive, child. I, too, took it for granted that he was out of the world, as we saw him no more. But I want to promise you one thing. From now on I will look for him whether I am on land or on sea. Some day, somewhere, I shall hear news of him. I wish you to remember that if ever you need a friend, you have only to let me know. I am ashamed to think that I have let this strange freak of circumstance find Robert Morton's daughter for me. I should have looked you up years ago. Do you know what a fellow's chum means to him when he is a boy at school?" Captain Moore queried, less seriously. "Don't you think a man ought to wish to do something for that fellow's little girl?"
Madge smiled. She knew that men hated tears. "Perhaps I shall ask you to help me some day," she said. "I thank you for your interest and for the splendid things you have said of my father. It is good to know that some of his brother officers believe in him, and because you have had faith in him I will tell you this much: my father was not guilty of the charges laid at his door. In being true to his own code of honor he lost his good name. There is only one person in the world who can give it back to him, and because I respect my father's wishes my lips are also sealed. But, alive or dead, Captain Robert Morton was or is innocent."
CHAPTER XXIII
THE SURPRISE
Up and down, up and down the old wharf, with his eyes turned ever toward the sea, a young man walked. His face was tanned, but it had a haggard look under the sun-burn. Tom Curtis, alone among all the friends and relatives, believed that news might yet be heard of the lost girls. That day he had crossed over to Portsmouth to receive the report from a boat that had been specially sent out with a dredging machine to drag the bottom of the bay near the spot where the houseboat had been anchored. The report received was—no news! No news was good news—from such a source.
The houseboat party had hardly realized the tremendous anxiety and excitement that their mysterious disappearance off the face of the waters had caused. Mr. and Mrs. Butler had come from their home to devote every hour of the day and night to searching for the lost girls. Mr. and Mrs. Seldon had only gone back to Philadelphia the day before, as Tom had promised to telegraph them the moment that any news was received. Dr. Alden had left his patients to take care of themselves while he endeavored to trace the whereabouts of his beloved Phil. Even Miss Matilda Tolliver, principal and proprietor of the Select Seminary for Girls at Harborpoint, Maryland, had departed from her school for the space of forty-eight hours to make the proper personal investigations for her four lost pupils and her teacher. Until she appeared on the scene herself, she felt sure no really intelligent effort had been made to find them.
Mrs. Curtis was still at Old Point Comfort with Tom. Madeleine had gone back to New York. Mrs. Curtis felt herself to be responsible for the whole disaster of the lost houseboat. If she had not invited the girls to anchor in such dangerous waters, their boat would never have torn loose from its moorings.
Tom was idling on the dock, simply because there was nothing else to do, no place to go, except to return to his mother with the report from the dredging crew. He took no special interest in the slow approach of another great battleship from the waters of Hampton Roads. Although it was usually good fun to watch the sailors come ashore after they had been away on a long cruise, to-day nothing was worth while. His thoughts were on the lost girls.
Just before the boat got in he concluded that he was bored with fooling around the wharf; he would take a walk through the town. He turned his back on his friends and deliberately strolled away from the water.
Once Tom Curtis did turn his head. He had heard an unusual stir behind him. The sailors, who were lined up preparatory to going ashore, had given the houseboat party a rousing cheer as they left the ship. But even with this chance for discovering his friends, Tom was blind. The crowd hid the little party of women from view, and Tom strode on faster than ever up the river bank toward one of the narrow streets of the town.
"O Miss Jenny Ann!" pleaded Madge as soon as her feet touched land, "I saw Tom Curtis leave the pier just a second ago. He can't be very far away. Won't you let me run after him? I will find him and bring him back in a minute."
Without waiting to hear her chaperon's reply Madge darted up the street at full speed.
Run as hard as she would, Madge could not catch up with Tom. Every time she arrived at one end of a street Tom was about in the act of crossing over to the next one. She could keep him in sight, but she could not reach him. She forgot that Miss Jenny Ann and the rest of her party were waiting for her, and that she really ought to have given up her chase, remembered nothing but the fact that she must see Tom. As she plunged recklessly across a side street, an automobile whirled into it.
At the opposite end of the square Tom Curtis's attention was arrested sharply. He heard the shrill, harsh protest from an automobile horn, then a cry of terror from a girl's throat. Her cry was taken up by half a dozen voices. There was no need to ask questions. He knew what had happened. An automobile had run down a young girl.
It took but a minute for Tom to run back the entire length of the block. But before he got to the spot where the accident had occurred a crowd had risen up as though by magic. It was impossible to see at once who had been hurt. Tom pushed his way through the outer fringe of the crowd. There was a woman in tears, offering her bottle of smelling salts to a girl. A flushed man was bending over the same girl, entreating her forgiveness. A fat policeman was demanding everybody's name.
Tom heard the girl say: "I am not hurt a bit, thank you. I was frightened; that was why I screamed. The front of your car just grazed me, but you stopped it in time. No, policeman, I don't wish to have anybody arrested. Please let me go. I was trying to catch up with a friend. He will be out of sight if I don't hurry."
And it was thus that Tom beheld Madge, whom, a minute before, in his gloomy reverie, he had given up for lost!
"O Tom!" she cried joyously as he hurried toward her, "I did make you look around, after all. We were not drowned. Aren't you glad to see me?"
Tom held Madge's small brown hands in his. "Madge!" was all he found words for.
Tom Curtis was not ashamed of the tears in his eyes as he looked at Madge. The first moment he had feared that she was an apparition that might vanish while he gazed upon it.
"I'm real, Tom; please don't look at me like that," faltered Madge, feeling her own eyes fill with tears. "We have been lost on a desert island, and a battleship brought us home to-day. Why did you run away from me when I tried so hard to catch up with you? I am sure it does not become a young woman to go dashing through the streets after a man who won't even glance back her way."
Madge spoke in this flippant fashion to hide the real emotion she felt in seeing her friend again.
"But, Tom, we must hurry back to the wharf. Miss Jenny Ann and the girls promised to wait on the dock for me until I brought you back. I am afraid they will think I have been gone an awfully long time. Let's go at once."
Madge was amazed to discover how far she had followed Tom when they turned back. She tried to make Tom understand the story as they hurried along. But Tom simply couldn't take in all the facts. He knew that Madge and the houseboat party were alive and well, and, for the time being, this was news enough.
It took them nearly twenty minutes to get back to the spot where Madge had told Miss Jenny Ann to wait for her. When they reached the end of the pier there was no chaperon, no Lieutenant Lawton, no Jeff! The place was almost entirely deserted. Madge's chase through the street, her automobile accident, her conversation with Tom, and their return had occupied nearly three-quarters of an hour.
When first they came ashore, Phil, Lillian and Eleanor had waited patiently for the return of their companion. Five minutes passed, then ten, soon fifteen. The girls were thinking of their fathers and mothers and the telegrams that should be sent.
At last Phil turned to Lieutenant Lawton. "Lieutenant Jimmy, won't you take me to the nearest telegraph station?" she demanded. "I am sorry not to wait for Madge and Tom, but I must telegraph to my father."
Lillian and Eleanor were in the same state of mind. They also went along with Lieutenant Lawton. It was arranged that Miss Jenny Ann and Jeff should wait for the truant. They would then bring Madge and Tom to the hotel at Portsmouth where they arranged to have dinner.
Miss Jones and Jeff lingered in the same place for half an hour. Miss Jenny Ann then concluded to walk up the river bank to the square to inquire if an accident had happened to the run-away. She must have been in the square when Madge and Tom passed without seeing her. A few minutes later Miss Jenny Ann concluded to go on up to the hotel, where the other girls were expecting her. She thought that Tom and Madge must have met the rest of the party and gone on to the hotel with them. She would find them there.
Tom and Madge searched everywhere along the wharf. They stopped half a dozen people to inquire for a party of four women and two men. No one had seen any such group.
"Does everyone in the houseboat crowd look as well as you do?" asked Tom, as they hurried along the street. "If they do, you ought to be ashamed of yourselves. Here we have been grieving ourselves to death, believing you were lost, and you have been having the jolliest kind of a lark on a little Robinson Crusoe island. You watch me go duck shooting there some day."
But after half an hour of vain inquiry for her friends Madge grew impatient.
"I don't see why the girls didn't wait for me. They went away without letting me know where they were going," she scolded. "Won't you please take me to your mother, Tom? I suppose Miss Jenny Ann will come to Old Point some time to-night."
There had been no plan made, before Madge went away, for spending the night in Portsmouth.
Tom was only too happy to be the little captain's escort. He liked to think of his mother's joy at seeing her. They had a jolly supper on the big, comfortable steamer that travels between Portsmouth and Fortress Monroe, arriving at Old Point a little after dusk.
The streets were almost deserted. It was cool enough for fires, and there was little lingering outdoors. Madge sat down on a bench in a small park, while Tom went to the nearest drug-store to telephone to his mother. He thought it wise to break the news of the discovery of the houseboat party by degrees. Also he wished to know if his mother had yet heard from Miss Jenny Ann and knew where she was.
Madge felt a grateful sense of happiness steal over her as she waited for Tom's return. It was, indeed, pleasant to be with her old friends who cared so much for her. To-day Fortress Monroe did not frown down upon the little home-comer from its stern battlements. The old fort seemed to offer her protection against her enemies.
A few soldiers on leave of absence from their barracks passed her in groups of twos and threes. But no one else appeared for several minutes. Tom was taking some time with his telephoning.
Finally an old man and a young girl came down the street in Madge's direction. The old man leaned heavily on the girl's arm. In the half light she could see that they were talking very earnestly and not looking about them. When they were close to her Madge Morton discovered them to be Flora Harris and her grandfather, Admiral Gifford.
Madge turned away her head. She hoped that she would not be observed. A few minutes before she had been so happy and so content. Why should the first person she saw at Old Point Comfort be the only person in the world who would take some of the pleasure away from her home-coming?
If only they would pass without seeing her! It was almost dark, and she was not even supposed to be in the land of the living, so she sat absolutely still, hardly daring to breathe.
Neither the old admiral, whose eyes were dimmed with age, nor his grand-daughter, saw the little figure on the bench as they walked toward it. They passed close by her. Some unseen force must have made Flora Harris turn her head as she came directly opposite Madge.
Flora gave one terrified scream, then began shaking as though with a chill.
"What is it, Flora?" her grandfather demanded. "Are you ill?"
Flora pointed a trembling finger at the other girl.
The old gentleman turned in confusion to glance at Madge. He saw only a young girl sitting quietly on a bench. He could not connect her with Flora's unexpected outcry. The admiral was not familiar with Madge's appearance. He had seen her only a few times, and he had not remembered her face.
Flora was now crying bitterly. She did not cease to stare at Madge, yet she did not speak.
The little captain sprang to her feet. "Don't be frightened, Miss Harris," she said quietly. "I am sorry I startled you. I hope you don't take me for a ghost. We have been shipwrecked for several weeks and only got in this afternoon——"
"Then I haven't murdered you!" Flora sobbed, running forward and flinging her arms about the other girl's neck. "I know that I am hateful and snobbish, and that I like to make other people uncomfortable, but I didn't mean any real harm to come to the houseboat when I asked Alfred Thornton to cut her loose from her moorings. I just wanted you not to come back here again. And I have not let Alfred Thornton confess that he cut your boat away from the anchor, because I was afraid we would both be put in jail."
Tom Curtis had come upon the little scene and stood listening in silence to Flora's surprising confession. He put his arm through Madge's and drew her quietly away from Flora's embrace. "It is too late to confess this dreadful story to-night, Miss Harris," he declared coolly. "Miss Morton has just arrived, and I am taking her to my mother. Her friends are spending the night at Portsmouth. My mother has just told me they have telegraphed her that they will be here to-morrow. If you will come to see us in the morning we can talk matters over more quietly; the street is not the place for this discussion."
Flora bowed humbly to Tom's verdict. "I'll come at eleven," she answered. The girl seemed so happy to know that the girls had not been drowned that she did not seem to care what punishment or disgrace might be in store for her.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE TELLING OF THE SECRET
"Must we see Flora Harris and her grandfather, Tom?" asked Madge the next morning. "We are having such a jolly time together. They will spoil everything."
The little captain was standing with her arm about Mrs. Curtis, her curly head close to her friend's beautiful white one. The room was filled with the re-united houseboat party, Miss Jenny Ann, Lillian, Phil and Eleanor, also Lieutenant Jimmy Lawton and his shadow, Jeff, the deaf and dumb boy. A little table in the center of the sitting room was piled with happy telegrams from fathers, mothers, sisters, cousins and aunts. The news that the houseboat party was really safe had spread everywhere.
"I think we had better let them come in and have it over with," Tom replied to Madge's questioning. "An act such as Flora Harris confessed ought not to go unpunished." Tom spoke like a man. Even his mother accepted his judgment without hesitation.
When Flora entered the room, her hand in her grandfather's, she was pale but self-possessed. She told almost exactly the same story that she had revealed to Tom and Madge the evening before. Flora brought with her a telegram from Alfred Thornton, confessing his part in the houseboat crime. He made no reference to Lieutenant Lawton. Indeed, Alfred Thornton did not know that the young officer was at Fortress Monroe.
When Flora finished there was an absolute silence in the room. What was there to be said? The five girls looked at Miss Jenny Ann, who appealed to Mrs. Curtis.
"I am willing to make any reparation I can," added Flora. "You can do anything you like to me, I'm so glad you are safe."
Still no one spoke.
"Grandfather?" Flora turned appealingly to the old admiral, who seemed white and shaken. He was plainly suffering more than was his granddaughter. The young people were quiet for his sake. "Won't you let me tell Miss Morton what you told father and me. I think you and I both owe it to her."
The old man bowed his head. "You tell them, child; I can't," he said.
Flora grew very white, but her voice never faltered.
"Madge Morton," she began, "you remember that one night before a group of Mrs. Curtis's friends I insulted the memory of your father. I told you that he had been disgraced and turned out of the Navy, and you asked me my grandfather's name, and said you could not speak against him. I did not in the least understand what you meant, but I knew that you were deeply in earnest and I felt afraid of you.
"Afterward, when I went home, my grandfather learned of what I had said to you. At first he was very angry. He said that I had no right to revive an old trouble. Later on he confessed to my father and to me that your father was dismissed from the Navy for doing an act that my grandfather, as his superior officer, had commanded him to do." Flora looked at the old admiral.
"Go on," he remarked quietly.
"You see," Flora explained, "by the code of the Navy, Captain Morton felt that he could not accuse his superior officer. He bore the disgrace and went away, disappearing soon afterward. If your father had not disappeared, my grandfather would not have continued to let Captain Morton suffer for his superior's fault. But later he heard that your father was dead, so he lost the courage to bring up the old story and clear your father's name.
"Then"—for the first time Flora faltered—"I tried to disgrace you by bringing up the past, and I am punished for it instead of you. Grandfather now says he is willing to take the blame of your father's disgrace upon himself and confess everything to the naval authorities. Whether your father is alive or dead, he will clear his name and yours."
The tears of age were streaming down the old man's face. He was seventy-five years old and had already been retired from the Navy.
There was a brief instant of hesitation on Madge's part, then she marched straight to Admiral Gifford and took his hand.
"Thank you," she simply said to him and to Flora. "It is wonderful for you to tell this, after all these years, for my father's and my sake. I can see why you never told of your command to my father when he disappeared and you believed that no one would be hurt by your silence. Admiral Gifford, in these last few weeks since I have been here near Fortress Monroe I have come to know what an officer's reputation means to him. If my father is dead, I shall ask you never to tell what you have just told us, but, if he is alive and we find him, Admiral Gifford, you will have to do as your conscience dictates. On the night when Miss Harris denounced my father I declared that I could retaliate. I knew at that time what you have just told me. A few days before we came to Old Point I was going through my mother's trunk. In a secret compartment of her jewel box I found a letter in my father's handwriting addressed to her, and a little black log book. The book told the story of my father's dark hour, the letter to my mother was the out-pouring of his tortured heart. Through it I learned the name of the man whose reputation he saved at the cost of his own honor. I made a vow, then, that I would find this man and force him to clear my father's name, but when I learned on that bitter night that it was an old man, who had been considered worthy of an admiralship, I weakened. I felt that my father would not wish such retaliation even to bring back his good name. That was my secret. I am glad I did not tell. Now everything has worked out beautifully. Oh, yes, there is just one thing more. We will never tell just how the houseboat happened to break away from her moorings."
"Right you are, Little Captain," said Phyllis, saluting.
The others echoed Phyllis's sentiments. Flora Harris was deeply touched; as for her grandfather, he placed his hands on Madge's shoulders and, looking down into her eyes of true blue, kissed the loyal little captain almost reverently on her white forehead.
"God bless you, my dear," he said solemnly. "You are Robert Morton's own daughter."
After Flora and her grandfather had gone the girls spent the time until luncheon relating their further island adventures to Mrs. Curtis and Tom. It had been decided that they take the train for Miss Tolliver's the following afternoon, and after remaining to luncheon with the Curtises they were to go down to the wharf to find out whether their houseboat had been picked up and towed to a landing near them.
When they reached the dock at a little after two o'clock it was to find the "Merry Maid" bobbing listlessly at the end of a strong rope cable. Tom Curtis had sent out a swift sea-going launch which had sighted her and picked her up within a few hours after it had started out.
"Hurrah for the 'Merry Maid'!" sang out Madge. "You can't lose her."
"Hurrah for the little captain!" cried Phyllis. "We can't get along without her."
"Hurrah for a hard afternoon's work," reminded Lillian. "Fall to, my hearties."
"Aye, aye, sir," sounded the chorus, and the crew of the "Merry Maid" "fell to."
"Miss Phyllis Alden, Miss Madge Morton, Miss Lillian Seldon and Miss Eleanor Butler, there is an express package downstairs for you as big as I don't know what!" announced the little maid at Miss Tolliver's Select Seminary for Girls in breathless excitement. "I saw it marked quite plain underneath your name. 'For the Captain and Mates of the "Merry Maid."'"
The little maid ran down the steps as quickly as she had traveled up.
"It is study hour and we are not supposed to leave our rooms. Do you think we dare go down to the library?" inquired the obedient Eleanor.
But the other three girls were already disappearing from the room and were making for the library.
Just outside the library door Phil paused. "I'll go and find Miss Tolliver," she said.
"Do come and see us open a big box that has just come for us, Miss Tolliver," she begged a moment later, happening to meet the principal in the hall. Nellie had already run off to find Miss Jenny Ann.
The express package was long and quite narrow, and Miss Tolliver insisted that a sheet be spread out to protect the library floor. Joseph, the houseman, was sent for to open the box. He hammered and pried out a dozen or more nails. Inside the wooden box was a pasteboard one of exactly the same shape. Phyllis lifted the lid and gave a sharp cry. She and Miss Matilda Tolliver were standing nearest to the box. Miss Tolliver repeated Phil's cry in shriller and more terrified tones. "Be calm, girls, be calm," she commanded the next moment as she dropped into a chair. "Joseph, go for the police. Some one has sent us a bomb to blow up the school."
Madge could not help peeping over into the box. Phyllis was shaking with laughter. She had seen a white card sticking out of the funnel of an odd boat-shaped box. The card bore the name of Lieutenant James Mandeville Lawton.
"It isn't a bomb, Miss Matilda, it is only a pasteboard model of our friend Lieutenant Jimmy Lawton's torpedo-boat destroyer. Lieutenant Lawton promised to let us hear if he were successful in preventing some people from stealing the patent on his boat. He has just taken this way to let us know he has won. It's awfully jolly!" explained Phil. "I am so glad he remembered us."
She picked up the miniature torpedo-boat destroyer and a shower of bonbons fell to the floor.
Every one laughed, including Miss Matilda Tolliver.
In the top of the box were two flags. One was a little silk flag of the United States Navy. The other one was in blue and white. On it was inscribed: "Long Life to the 'Merry Maid' and Her Merry Maidens."
Madge waved the blue flag triumphantly over her head. "Them's my sentiments!" she announced. "Aren't we glad that our little houseboat was found unharmed? Sure and she is only waiting for us to take her into new waters."
"It won't be very long till next summer," comforted Phil.
"And then we'll pull up anchor for new scenes."
Where they went and what happened to them the following summer is fully set forth in "Madge Morton's Trust." Those who have been interested in the little captain and her friends will find the history of their third houseboat voyage even more absorbing than either of their earlier trips on board the famous "Merry Maid."
The End.
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