CHAPTER VThe Adventures of the Yawland her CrewTo go back to the start of the white yawl. After the mooring-buoy had "plopped" into the smooth sea, the sails half-filled, and then, as the pretty craft righted herself, they slackened again in a succession of sleepy rattles. Then followed a period of drifting to leeward, the dinghy drifting also, and bumping softly against the yacht's counter in a stupid manner.Adrian flung himself on the deck and mopped his forehead; he said:"I wonder why Mother always rejoices when there is no wind. It doesn't appeal to me as a desirable state of things. Pam looks jolly comfortable over there--wish I was in her place! I say, Crow, don't say we're going to play the fool like this all day.""Why say anything in such a very short space of time, dear boy," retorted the skipper lazily; "we've hardly started--isn't that thunder, hark?""It is thunder, my good woman," allowed Adrian, "which means growlings, heat and stickiness immeasurable. Don't give way to optimistic hopes and picture--first a gentle cooling shower, and then a sweet little breeze that will waft us to Peterock without a tack."Christobel, obstinately happy, lay back in a comfortable position with one arm thrown over the tiller. Suddenly she sat up. A queer little breeze had dropped upon them from the heights. The slack sails filled, the yawl leaned gently to leeward and, with ever-increasing speed, began to cut steadily through the glassy heaving sea. Straight out they went--out and out into the world of blue--the cordage strained and creaked, the hard sails pulled, andMessengersped through the water with a delicious bubbling hiss."How's that, umpire?" demanded Crow, turning a smiling glance on Adrian, "kindly remember next time occasion rises, that it's never worth while looking on the dark side.""The hot side, you mean," said Adrian unabashed, "where are we going now?""Out," answered his sister briefly."Good. Let's get away from our native land for a bit--it's stuffy. Besides I want to look at it from a distance, it enlarges one's mind."So Christobel, like the master mariner in "The Wreck of the Hesperus", "steered for the open sea", and Adrian, whose appetite was enlarging as well as his mind, decided that dinner was of more importance than anything else, and diving into the saloon began fetching up plates, food, cups and lemonade; asMessengerwas on an even keel, and the breeze held, the conditions were ideal and there was nothing to worry about. As they ate, they planned the excursion with precision. They were going out, but the ebbing tide was carrying them northward--Peterock way, that is to say; presently they would tack, and from a distance of some seven miles set a straight course on a "soldier's wind" for the pretty town. They fixed the hour at which they would arrive, how long they would stop, and how short a time it would take them to get back--under the very satisfactory conditions of fair tide and fair wind.As a rule, this is the way of all ways to upset everything; and to-day the rule held good.First the wind dropped--dropped--and ceased. One moment the sails were drawing with firm pressure; actually the next moment they hung limp--not a cord stirring. At the same time, as Crow said, "someone blew the candle out".As it happened she gave an exclamation and looked up. A bank of dense black cloud had covered the high sun that had shone upon them till then. The sky was divided in two by a distinct line. To seaward, blue, clear, exquisite. To landward and above the vivid broken coast hung massed clouds of most fearsome appearance. Clouds above clouds--the lowest, greyish battalions tearing along at headlong speed; above them others of purple black, moving statelily at a different angle; above them again piled heaps of strange shapes, shot and lined with coppery tints. These were moving at a different pace, and in a different direction.As far as eye could see over the hilly land was black. And the black was devouring the sunny blue.Christobel looked up, round, and landward. Then she said in rather a small voice:"Howhorrid!" and turned her eyes seaward.Adrian contemplated the heavens with a frown, then he got up, saying one might as well put away the things. He put them away, and incidentally made everything snug inside; nothing was left loose to shift or roll.Christobel heard him doing it and guessed that he expected it would be necessary.Presently he came up the short companion-way, put his head out and stared at the sky again. The line of black was advancing swiftly over the blue."We shall have big rain, old lady," he said. "I don't know how much wind! Of course, it's only thunder, but----"Low down over the hills shot out a succession of wicked fiery darts. They stabbed downwards into the quiet land as though they would destroy it. Deep ominous rumblings followed."I think I rather hate it," said Crow uneasily."I'll get the mackintoshes out of the fore lockers, expect we shall find a use for them before we are through with this beano! You'll have to put yours on," Adrian said, then he laughed. "When it comes, it'llcome."Then they both laughed, and Christobel as usual found support and comfort in her brother's matter-of-fact way of looking at things. She was no coward. Her courage was of a high order, though she was not aware of it, but certain conditions affected her imagination and made icy thrills run all over her.Adrian would have said "It's only a few clouds--what does that matter?" Equally he would have said of a dark night and its mysteries, "If it were daylight you wouldn't mind! What's the difference? There's nothing there."While she gazed at the towering masses that hung over sea and land with dread in her eyes, Adrian thought about mackintoshes."When the rain comes I shan't mind," said Crow, "rain is only--well, rain.""How true," murmured Adrian, "and being rain it wets."They both laughed again, and the skipper felt better.But even Addie was quite silent before the wetting part came.The land was invisible now, except when those stabs of flame tore splits in the barrier; then the two watchers could see the dark breathless combes and the big headlands showing black and rugged. But it seemed as though there was no end to the piling weight of cloud that now almost covered the sea, the vivid contrast of the blue space over the shining horizon making it the darker. The growlings and rumblings had now turned to crashes, the noise adding to the dread.At this phase Adrian questioned whether it would not be well to get the mainsail in--it would be so wet, he suggested, and they could do with the mizzen well enough; but Christobel did not agree."If the wind is bad we can drop the peak," she said, "after all it's not like a cutter mainsail--they are so huge. We've only just enough to send us along nicely. Besides, once we stow it it will take ages to set again. Let's risk it."So they decided to "risk it", which was an instance of Crow's way of looking at things. She was not afraid to face a possible gale--but she was horribly afraid of the look--the influence--of that overwhelming pile of gloomy cloud."I wonder how many 'volts' are playing skittles up there," remarked Adrian thoughtfully, "great Scotland! If one knew how to box it all up and use it for transport power--engines of every sort and kind! Why can't I invent something! It ought to be a British monopoly--we could switch it on to any nations that played the fool--and there we should be---- Hullo--see that tender drop, Crow? A wash-hand basin would hardly have held it--put this thing on.""This thing" was, of course, the mackintosh.The brother and sister were busy for a few seconds, then they sat down again armoured--in sticky, shiny oilskins, and sou'westers well drawn over their ears."Go inside, Addie, why should two swim?" said Crow, speaking loud through the deafening riot of crashes."Oh no," shouted Adrian with weighty sarcasm, "I'll go to bed, and light the stove, and tuck myself up with a hot-water bottle; better still, you could leave the tiller and tuck me up! By the way, that reminds me--aren't you about fed up with steering?"Crow shook her head, and spread both hands out with a meaning gesture--only her elbow stayed the tiller in place.Adrian understood; it was just a question of waiting, so he varied the monotony by going forward to batten down the forehatch, coil in loose sheets, make fast the anchor, and see that the peak halyard was nowhere hitched or encumbered. Then he returned aft and shut the door of the main cabin, commenting still on the size of one or two splashes, which he declared would have filled the kettle; the door slid along in grooves and was proof against heavy seas or torrents of rain. Then he turned an inventive eye on the dinghy, which was rocking sleepily under their quarter, and suggested that she might be used as a "wind anchor" if she filled up."Supposing we get a real howler," said Adrian, "we could make her fast to the bowsprit, you see, and just ride."It was while they were laughing over this brilliant idea that Crow saw the grey wall coming, and sprang to attention as it were, standing up--an alert grip on the tiller.It seemed to reach from the bank of blackness to the sea, and shut off the land like a blind. It was coming towards them--coming out to sea ushered by a noise like the rush of rapids--an immense volume of rain water, descending in lines straight as harp strings, and striking the level sea. It was very amazing, and Christobel gazed with awe; she had never seen anything quite like it, because a stretch of land has so many interruptions that you cannot see thelineas you can on miles of water. Besides, water striking water like that is a very wonderful thing, foam fringes the edge of it all along, hissing like a boiler."This looks as though it meant to hurt our feelings--especially the dinghy's," said Adrian cheerfully, "she isn't used to bad manners."Crow shrank instinctively as the rush of the advancing thing enveloped the yawl. They were battered by such rain as she had never experienced before, yet once into it, all her dread was dispelled like a nightmare.Rain fell on the deck like the rattle of bullets, and in a minute the whole place was a wild wash of water pouring through scuppers, water streaming into the well, water heaving and lifting everything that could be pushed out of place. Crow held on to the tiller, but there was nothing doing in the sailing way--yet--nothing but water which seemed to nail them motionless by sheer weight. She glanced aside at the little boat, and saw her filling up swiftly--"Oh, poor dinghy," she gasped aloud--but there was no time to do anything, or even consider doing it, for something was coming at the back of the rain that asked for all her attention.A puff of strong, chill wind----Messengerleaned heavily to starboard, the flattened sea seemed to rise up in a line of foam under her quarter, water poured in at the streaming scuppers--and away she went--blinded--battered--drenched--away and away like a hunted creature flying for its life.Certainly five minutes passed before these two adventurers began to take stock of their situation. So far, they had just let drive, steering the only possible course, straight ahead. At the end of five minutes the force of the downpour began to abate, but the wind was increasing.As soon as speech was possible Adrian asked where she thought they were going?The skipper laughed rather tremulously--it had been a strenuous five minutes."What about America? We might call on President Wilson. Please remember we can go where we please on the High Seas now! No more permits--no more 'out of bounds'. The question is, where can you get your hair cut?""Anywhere will do between here and Land's End," answered Adrian generously.The rain was pouring off his sou'wester, over his nose. He looked very large and cheerful.Now this was approximately the moment when Pamela assured her mother--on Adrian's authority--that the voyagers would be on shore at Tamerton or Netheroot! It was no doubt fortunate for Mrs. Romilly that she could not see the facts of the situation.The straining yawl was driving her way through apparently limitless grey sea, of which the churning foam was taken by a wild wind and flung ahead in stinging mist. The sky, so far as it could be seen, was a froth of whirling cloud; everything was grey and confused--no land--no order--no outline."I believe we are going straight out to sea," said Crow."Do you?" Adrian was not impressed, "we may be going anywhere--all ways look alike. Jolly untidy view I call it! And look here, what about that wretched dinghy? She's about full up, and to judge by the way she's towing weighs about two ton! In one of these jerks we shall snap the painter; and then--she'll sink like a ton of sand."Of all things in the world Christobel dreaded what she called "playing with boats" in the open sea, under conditions like the present. She pictured a sickening lurch, Addie overboard--driving to leeward--swallowed up in hideous grey confusion, herself helpless! Her lips grew white, but all she said was:"Plenty of time yet."Adrian laughed, flecks of many colours dancing in his hazel eyes."How true! And the world before us! I say, Crow, isn't this absolutely top-hole?""Hum--hum--please remember, my dear child, that we've got to come back.""Plenty of time," said Adrian, echoing her words."I'll agree with you, when the rain stops, and I can see where we are;" Christobel shook herself as she spoke, and then looked in an interested manner at the wet drippings.Adrian reverted suddenly to his unpleasant idea about the dinghy. There was no doubt that she was a serious pull back--a heavy and dangerous drag on the yacht. Crow saw it was inevitable, so she made her conditions. Adrian should bail out if she might bringMessengerup into the wind and lie-to, while he chose to poise himself in critical attitudes."Otherwise, I simply won't," declared the skipper with decision.Adrian saw no necessity, of course. There was more zest in a really dangerous operation! However, he made no objection and Crow put the helm hard down. The yawl answered like a horse with a tender mouth. Round she came on a sweeping curve, the wet sails first shivering, and then giving out a succession of loud reports. A moment after and they were on a level keel in comparative quiet, leaping at the waves with some sort of regularity."Phew! What a comfort!" exclaimed Christobel, stretching both arms. Then she lashed the jerking tiller, while her brother hauled over the foresail sheets, and braced in the mainsail close.The wind rushed by them with the same force, but they did not feel it, of course, and there was time to take stock, and put their "house in order", so to speak. Moreover, the skipper had pleasure in the conscious knowledge that if Addie did fall overboard it would be easy enough for him to regain the yawl.She laughed with sudden joyousness."What's the joke?" asked her brother."I feel like the frog-footman inAlice Through the Looking-glass, 'I shall stay here--on and off--for days, and days'. It's very appropriate to one's wishes.""Well, we needn't go home," Adrian remarked as he hauled in the small boat cautiously, "I mean we can go back by train, and leave the yawl----""Where?""Oh, anywhere."This was not at all explicit, but Crow understood his meaning, which was that they were not bound to sail back to Bell Bay. They could make some port, and, putting theMessengerin safety, return by rail."We'll see where we are when the clouds roll by," she answered; "it's not going on, Addie. I believe firmly that we shall have a perfect evening."Adrian, divesting himself of his oilskins, and his boots--"in case the bally thing sank with him," as he explained, made no answer to his sister's expectations. But about ten minutes after, when he climbed over the counter, his work well done, he repeated that there was any amount of time, and it would be much better fun to go home some other way.The storm had either dispersed or "gone to America", they thought. It had changed the whole aspect of the scene into a desolate waste of tossing grey sea and driving grey cloud, but there was no more lightning, very little rain, and a mere mutter of far-away thunder.The voyagers found it was just on three o'clock, and Adrian suggested they should steer by compass. He wanted to know where it was."Mollie put it somewhere," answered Crow, with cheerful vagueness most unbecoming in a skipper.So Adrian unlocked the door of the main cabin, and slid it open."Wonderful how whiffy any boat gets when you shut her down, even for half an hour, with everything close," he remarked, putting his head within and sniffing critically, "commend me to an oil-stove on a small yacht for an A1 stench."Christobel sat still outside, waiting. Her mind was much easier. She realized that all conditions were quieter. She could certainly see farther. Adrian called out from below that he couldn't find the compass, so she also dived into the saloon, and hunted exhaustively. No compass. They decided that Mollie or Penberthy had taken it ashore.To let in more light upon the search Adrian unfastened the forehatch, and then lighted the stove, because there was a "wonderful unanimity"--as somebody said, on the question of early tea, Adrian declaring he was full of salt, and Christobel that such a lot had happened since lunch.All things then being in train for refreshment and start, the skipper hastened upstairs again, and the first thing she saw was that the dinghy had slipped her tow and gone off.She called to Adrian, who appearing with swiftness took a comprehensive look at the shifting grey waste around."She can't be far off," declared Crow hopefully.Her brother pointed to a dark blot that was heaved up by a wave, only to disappear behind another foam-tipped hill."Little beast," he said shortly."Never mind," Christobel urged cheerfully--she detected a fallen expression on his face, "never mind, Addie, it's nobody's fault. We'll soon pick her up."As they hauled the jib over and let out the mainsheet, she added:"Whata blessing it didn't happen when the rain was pouring, and she was full of water! She'd have sunk to a certainty."Adrian allowed these cheering remarks to pass unnoticed."I thought I made her fast," he said. Such mishaps rankle.In spite of all their efforts that dinghy evaded capture for twenty minutes at least, if not more. If anybody thinks this improbable let them try to capture a small light boat in such conditions. Many tacks seemed to succeed only in passing just out of reach; running down on the wind ended in a miss, because the pace was too swift for the careful use of the necessary boat-hook.Adrian stood ready in the bows of the yawl, holding to the forestay, only to fail half a dozen times, once narrowly escaping a dive. After that he pursued operations from the counter, making Crow very nervous."Hold on, child, for mercy's sake," she urged, "do consider wretched me if you go overboard!"Adrian was just in the heat of proving that it would be actually to her advantage if he fell overboard--couldn't he reach the dinghy more easily--when Christobel, partly by sheer luck, brought the yawl up into the wind on the very spot, so cleverly that she seemed to stop side by side with the runaway. A swoop of the boat-hook, a moment's tension, and Adrian had grasped the trailing tow-rope.Christobel blew a very loud sigh of relief, she had been very intent on the capture. Immediately on that came an exclamation of surprise, and Adrian rose from his knees to see what new excitement was coming their way.CHAPTER VI"I wouldn't have believed it of Pam!"The heavy atmosphere of spray, rain, and driven cloud that had enveloped the yacht up till now was passing bodily over to seaward. From beneath the curtain of it towards the north appeared--in brilliant sunshine--a wonderful line of coast showing up in rain-swept clearness. Above it the sky was blue; the purple and emerald hills glowed in the setting."Oh, Addie, what a dream of beauty! We shall be in it directly--just look how all the murky stuff is drifting away over the sea! I say, though, aren't we a long way out--miles and miles!"Adrian dived below to search for the glass, which fortunately had not gone ashore with the compass. Christobel with narrowed eyes, tried to distinguish landmarks. The sunlight over the coast was growing stronger every moment.After bringing the glass to bear on the scene Adrian gave a joyful chuckle."Who'd have thought it, Crow," he cried, pointing rapidly from place to place as he named them. "See--there you are! The Beak miles behind us. There's the Bell Ridge, ever such a way back. There's the lighthouse--white as a big tooth. There's the high Down up above Ramsworthy--with the glass you can see the rows of new houses above Netheroot sands! Do you see where we are, old girl? Almost level with Salterne Harbour! Here's the Heggadon bluff exactly opposite, and, of course, just round the corner of that you get the entrance to the estuary. It is simply the neatest thing in life. Why, I pictured that we were somewhere between Peterock and Bell Bay, with all the hard work to do coming back against this northerly breeze--and here we are only a mile or two from the harbour with a fair wind, and please note tide in our favour still. Now look here--we chuck Peterock, of course, and make for Salterne while we have tea--go right up to the bridge and pick up some spare moorings. Put a decent chap in charge of the yawl. Get my hair cut, and go back by train. How's that?""And wire to Mum as soon as we get into the town," added Christobel behind the glasses."Oh, that's of course," said Adrian, who was restless with excitement, "come on then, let's have tea--any amount of tea, I'm as hollow as a drum. Give me the tiller, you've been at it for an age. The stove's all ready--by the way, I told Mother Jeep to give us about a dozen hard-boiled eggs, I knew I could eat six! I say, Crow, isn't it the very limit to come out down here? Who'd have imagined such dazzling luck. When you come to think of it, losing the dinghy was about the best thing that ever happened to us----"And so on ... Adrian glowing with optimism which was his normal condition--when not in the depths of despondency.Christobel was supremely happy too. The sun shone. Addie was very content, and Mrs. Romilly would receive a wire. She made tea, and sang under her breath.It was nearly five o'clock when they crossed the humming bar, between the lovely slopes of Peverell and Tamerton. The wind dropped suddenly, because the huge bluff called the Heggadon formed a complete screen, but the tide still acted a friendly part, for, though it was turning outside, the change was not completed inside, as harbours and all inlets of the sea are half an hour to an hour later than the main tide outside.TheMessengerswept in smoothly on the top of the flood, under the most perfect conditions possible. The beautiful estuary looked like an inland sea, with here and there the long back of a sandbank showing above the ripple."We'll do it again, Crow, won't we?" said Adrian, beaming satisfaction, "why, it's nothing.""No," allowed the skipper, eyeing the wet sails thoughtfully."Look at the time, my good girl--look! Five o'clock. And when did we leave Bell Bay?"Christobel thought it was about 11.30."So it was--well, what's that? Five hours and a half--and not plain sailing, mind you, either--but a rattling thunderstorm, and a lost dinghy! I call it great!"Crow admitted that it was great."But I'm afraid we shan't get home till rather late," she added.Adrian briefly reviewed the train time-table, which was decidedly limited in that part of the world."We shall want something extra to eat in the town," he said, "but mind you, one can do an awful lot in the eating line in ten minutes. I know, because I've tested. Let's say 6.20, Crow, and get to Five Trees at about 6.45----""Addie, wecan't," broke in Christobel, dismayed, "we are simply bound to miss that train. We are going awfully well, but it ought to take nearly an hour to reach the bridge, and then there's all the work of stowing, and finding a man--and your hair--and the wire--Oh, we can't do it!""Well, there's only one other train, the last one, what's that--leaves Salterne about five minutes to nine. Beastly few trains! Well, what do you say?"Christobel considered with a disturbed expression of face."Well," went on Adrian, who quite refused to see any drawback to the joy of the situation, "well, look here, Crow. We'lltryfor the 6.20, and if we miss it we'll go by the nine o'clock."There was no doubt at all about the missing. The wind lessened to a mere breath, and the tide was beginning to turn against them during their sail up the last long reach. They got to the bridge in a state of "sleepiness", as the skipper called it--so much so that they had to submit to receive assistance from a person of the "long-shore" kind, who had fastened a speculative eye upon them the moment they appeared at the turn by the big shipyard. He came to meet them, in a clinker-built boat, rowing weightily--he was very like the men in W. W. Jacobs' stories. Adrian accepted a tow and the offer of "a little pair o-moorings where the oldFair Hopelays when she's in harbour".Adrian accepted, assuring Christobel over his shoulder that it was the only thing to do, and far the quickest.The mariner went slow, slower; "slow as the wheels of evolution", as a certain story says. He hailed kindred spirits on the quay, and the small matter of picking up a moorings buoy was turned into a positive function--and would have to be paid for as such, of course!Christobel groaned aloud, then laughed. It was no use worrying.Adrian, whistling between disparaging remarks on the manners and customs of long-shore persons, took it easily."Lots of time before nine o'clock, Crow," he said.They went into the town about the time the 6.20 p.m. arrived at Salterne, and sent off their wire. After that the skipper resigned herself to calm enjoyment. The afternoon, since the storm dispersed, had been so beautiful that Mrs. Romilly could hardly have worried so far, and the telegram would secure the rest.Adrian had his hair cut. The necessary feeding was not a matter of ten minutes, but a most delightful meal; finally Crow rejected a suggestion of "The Pictures for about half an hour or so"--nothing would induce her to risk missing that train--and they sat in the station in the warm darkness. It was very quiet, and sparely lighted. She was happy enough, but Adrian was rather regretful about going at all."I see what we ought to have done," he said, "wired to Mum that we were sleeping on board in the harbour. What an awful pity. I suppose we couldn't do it now, Crow?""Can't send a wire now," answered Christobel."Pity. That walk from Five Trees to Bell Bay is rather a grind. If we stayed on the yawl we could sail home to-morrow morning.""We can't stay on the yawl--Mother would be in fits, when we've wired we are coming by this train. Addie, don't have a fleeting mind. Let's talk about something else."But the train came in from Riversgate--they could see it winding along out of the far hills to the south of the harbour and crossing the bridge like a mechanical toy--they got in, and went over to the end of the carriage from which the wide estuary was visible under the young moon. Such a wonderful sight, with sandhills exposed and a hundred different channels sending tides out to sea."I wouldn't live inland if you paid me to," said Adrian firmly."'And so say all of us'," quoted Crow in an ardent whisper.Then they were silent--looking out.Twenty to twenty-five minutes after that, they drew into the little moorland station, high, fresh, and lonely, under the moon. There were still clouds about, which made the shadows more eerie. It was all beautiful and mysterious as only the far west country can be. The brother and sister heartily agreed that the whole day had been well worth living."I'm not sure this isn't best of all," said Crow.Adrian was planning arrangements for fetching the yawl, and they covered the long stretch of white road in quick time; no walking is so delightful as that in moonlight, with all the world to oneself. Owls hooted from the trees, and in a distant copse a nightingale suddenly began his song--more perfect for the space and loneliness.The Romilly pair became silent. Conversation seemed almost irreverent.They were approaching the Folly Ho turn. Suddenly into the quiet broke a monotonous light sound--the tapping of feet on hard ground; someone was running at an even pace."We're not the only people alive to-night," said Christobel in a low voice, "I thought we were.""Coming from Peterock way," Adrian said, "we shall see who it is in a jiff; they are bound to come in front of us, unless they jump the hedge into the field. Sounds like a girl running.""Why?" asked Christobel, "much more likely to be Peter Cherry, or someone like that. There are not many girls to run when one comes to calculate."They were approaching the turn. The road before them was white and clear, the trees at the corner looking curiously distinct. With one accord both ceased to speak, and gave all attention to the light regular sound that drew nearer.Pat, pat, pat--fell the running feet, and from the side-road appeared a figure. In a moment it was speeding down hill in front of the interested pair."Addie!" gasped Christobel, with startled emphasis."My only aunt!" ejaculated Adrian, "who'd have thought it.""You see who it is?""Rather!""But, Addie, what's she doing coming from Folly Ho, this time of night?""Why ask me?" said her brother with reason."Mother thinks she's in bed, of course," went on Christobel in a troubled voice; "I'm sure it can be explained, but it is horrid. It's utter bad form. I wouldn't have believed it of Pam."Adrian maintained a gloomy silence. Brothers never approve of unconventional explosions on the part of sisters; especially very pretty sisters of Pamela's age. It is taken as a matter of course that they are not old enough for independent action.With one accord the two elders increased their pace to a fast walk, then to a trot."We shall see her directly," said Crow, "she wasn't going so very fast, and the road past Woodrising is perfectly straight for some way."They reached the corner. Ahead of them, some way down the hill, was a running figure.Adrian put his fingers to his mouth and made a long, harsh whistle like a steam escape.For a moment they saw a face, as the girl checked and glanced round. But she did not stop, she ran on again, evidently faster."Jolly well ashamed of herself," said Adrian, rigidly disapproving. "She can't escape, Crow. She'll be ahead of us--in sight--all the way home."It is a proverb never "to boast", that is to say, never to reckon on a hope as a fact--lest something unexpected spoils the hope. In this case the moon failed the pursuers. They had been so intent on Pamela that neither of them noticed a big patch of cloud sailing swiftly up from the north. In a moment the moon was shut off, and in a minute the darkness was pretty complete, for the cloud was a heavy one."Oh--dash it!" exclaimed Adrian irritably, "just when we were sure.""Never mind, we can run just the same. We shall get used to the dark, and anyway, Addie,shecan't run fast any more than we can. One can't help taking care, when one can't see.""Hedges are getting clearer," suggested Adrian, "funny how quickly one gets used to things. This Woodrising wall is plain as the lighthouse."They ran on--down hill always, passed the long line of wall, and just as the overhanging shrubs and sheltering height of Fuchsia Cottage hill-side showed a big black patch on the right hand, the moon suddenly appeared again, and everything around--road, hedges, bushes, and towering steep above cottage and church--came out again as clear as a painted scene.Adrian and Christobel both looked ahead down the road. It was empty. Not a soul in sight."Where's she gone to?" said Christobel, stopping."Don't ask me, my good girl," Adrian was cross, unquestionably, "I suppose she's up to some trick."Such a suggestion did not please Crow."You shouldn't talk like that, Addie," she expostulated. "Pam doesn't play 'tricks'. She isn't that sort of girl. None of us are. There may be something up we don't know about that sent her up to Folly Ho. Perhaps Mother wanted a message taken to Timothy Batt--one never knows! The thing I don't understand is, how she's managed to disappear, considering the road is about as straight as a ruler, and the moonlight is bang on it, and there's only one way home."Adrian said nothing; in silence, and at a quick walk they arrived opposite the shaded gate of Fuchsia Cottage. Here Christobel stopped again. "She can't have sunk through the earth, Addie, and she wouldn't have jumped the hedge! I believe she went in here. Mother may have given her a message to the Little Pilgrim--why not?""Why not, of course!" echoed Adrian dryly. "The sort of thing Mother would do--considering it's just on ten o'clock."There was so much truth in this, that Christobel did not make any reply to it--she said:"I'm just going to ask," and opened the gate.They went up the path, mounted three short flights of brick steps that cut the three little terraces, and found themselves at a deep porch half buried in roses. Apparently Miss Lasarge heard them coming, for she appeared on the threshold of the pretty sitting-room-hall."Thisisnice, dear children," she said in the eager sweet voice that was one of her attractions, "come into the dining-room--the cocoa is just ready."That was the cottage. A good-sized sitting-room hall with windows looking two ways, and a cosy little dining-room. Three bedrooms above. There was also the kitchen, where reigned Lizzie Sprot, a sturdy west-country young woman, who had lived eleven years with Miss Anne--from the age of seventeen. Lizzie Sprot had gone to bed, she always went when she had taken in the cocoa, and left Miss Anne to sit up and write letters as a rule."Is Pam here?" asked Christobel, as they followed the slim, grey figure into the dining-room, yet even as she asked the question she felt instinctively it was a foolish one."Is who here, dear? Sit down now, both of you--that's right. Two cups from the corner cupboard, please, Crow--that is delightful. Now, what is it you were asking--something about Pam?"Christobel asked again. Adrian said nothing, except to corroborate his sister's story."So you think you saw Pamela come down the Folly Ho turn, and go--towards home?"Now Miss Lasarge said this, a mere repetition of what she had just been told, in rather an uncertain tone.Adrian said afterwards, that anyone could see she thought it was objectionable, but did not like to say so.Christobel looked a bit anxious, but went straight to the point with the sincerity that was part of her sterling character."We don'tthink, Little Pilgrim, we know. The moon was bright, and the road clear as day. Addie whistled to her, and she looked round. We saw her look over her shoulder at us, but instead of stopping she only ran faster.""Oh, that doesn't sound like Pam," murmured Miss Anne."But itwasPam," asserted Crow."Don't you think you might easily have mistaken some other girl for Pamela, dear? Moonlight is very deceptive--and you said that a cloud came directly after and obscured your vision. Really, I can't help feeling----""It was Pamela right enough, Miss Anne," said Adrian firmly; "she was as plain as a hayrick, pig-tail and all. No other girl in Bell Bay has hair like Pamela. Besides, when it comes to that, what other girls are there about? Mollie Shard is not here now, and if she were, she isn't the least like Pam."There was a pause. Christobel set her cup on the table and half rose."You needn't go for a few minutes," suggested Miss Anne, "Mother won't be anxious. She got your wire, I know, because I was there when it came."Christobel asked if Mrs. Romilly was anxious during the thunderstorm; and recounted their adventure in a few words--as matter of fact, the yawl affair had been driven out of her mind by this business about Pamela."It was a horrid storm here," said Miss Lasarge, apparently pleased to talk about something else, "terribly noisy, and very heavy rain. But I understood that your mother wasn't really anxious. She hoped you were on shore--then it came fine--so lovely, too--I never saw anything like the colours--land and sea."Christobel stood up to go. She apologized again for calling in at such an hour."We only just thought there was a chance of Pam--having come in with a message----""I'msureyou'll find it was all right, dear Crow," said Miss Lasarge, kissing her; "I--I expect it was somebody else. You'll find Pam is in bed and asleep, unless she is sitting with your mother.""No doubt we shall find Pam is in bed, and she'll tell us she's asleep," said Adrian, as they went out through the gate."Oh, don't, Addie," begged Christobel, "I'm sure there's an explanation."Silence ensued, then she continued:"Didn't you think Miss Anne was a tiny bit--well--confused? I thought so.""Ithought she believed it was Pamela, but tried not to believe it, and was hunting round for excuses anyway. She certainly seemed a bit uncomfortable--besides, it's sheer rubbish to tell us it might be somebody else. She knows and we know that there isn't anybody else. But she's an awfully kind person--in fact, she's a regular little saint, she can't bear to think anybody is wrong."As they were opening the big gates at the end of the drive, Christobel asked:"Shall we tell Mother? Whatoughtwe to do about it?""You mean about seeing Pam?""Yes. Suppose we find Mother knows nothing and is secure and comfortable as usual, and that Pam is up in her room. Well, what ought we to do?""Oh, I don't know," said Adrian irritably, "it's sickening. One can't go clacking to Mother about Pam--it simply isn't done," he shut the gates with a vicious snap."That's what I thought," Crow was relieved, "let's wait and see what Pam says--I'll go and ask her to-night.""Just as you like," agreed Adrian indifferently, and they went in.Mrs. Romilly was reading the paper; she was delighted to see them, and eager to hear all details. She said she had not been anxious, because Pam told her they proposed landing if the weather was bad. At this point Adrian turned his head discreetly to conceal a smile. When the storm passed she had been quite happy; and, when the telegram came, had considered it all a most wise arrangement."Your hair looks so nice, darling," she said, looking approvingly at Adrian's sleek head.Pleading sleepiness the two went off to bed, and on the landing upstairs Christobel said: "Wait a minute," and slipped down to Pamela's room at the end.She knocked. There was no answer, so she opened the door gingerly, and put her head into the opening. A long heap in the bed stirred, and turned over with a jerk."Hullo, who is it; what do you want, Hughie?" demanded Pamela in the slurring tones of one but half awake."It's not Hughie--it's Crow. I just peeped in to see if you were awake," said Christobel, not at all pleased with herself, because she felt a wee bit mean."Oh, you're back. That's all right. I'm so glad. Did you have a jolly time?""Awfully jolly--after the thunder cleared," said Crow."Tell me about it to-morrow. Good-night, Crow," murmured Pamela sleepily, and relapsed into slumber.In the passage Christobel whispered to Adrian:"She was sound asleep--sound. I woke her, but she was only half awake."Adrian whistled softly, and departed to his room without comment.
CHAPTER V
The Adventures of the Yawland her Crew
To go back to the start of the white yawl. After the mooring-buoy had "plopped" into the smooth sea, the sails half-filled, and then, as the pretty craft righted herself, they slackened again in a succession of sleepy rattles. Then followed a period of drifting to leeward, the dinghy drifting also, and bumping softly against the yacht's counter in a stupid manner.
Adrian flung himself on the deck and mopped his forehead; he said:
"I wonder why Mother always rejoices when there is no wind. It doesn't appeal to me as a desirable state of things. Pam looks jolly comfortable over there--wish I was in her place! I say, Crow, don't say we're going to play the fool like this all day."
"Why say anything in such a very short space of time, dear boy," retorted the skipper lazily; "we've hardly started--isn't that thunder, hark?"
"It is thunder, my good woman," allowed Adrian, "which means growlings, heat and stickiness immeasurable. Don't give way to optimistic hopes and picture--first a gentle cooling shower, and then a sweet little breeze that will waft us to Peterock without a tack."
Christobel, obstinately happy, lay back in a comfortable position with one arm thrown over the tiller. Suddenly she sat up. A queer little breeze had dropped upon them from the heights. The slack sails filled, the yawl leaned gently to leeward and, with ever-increasing speed, began to cut steadily through the glassy heaving sea. Straight out they went--out and out into the world of blue--the cordage strained and creaked, the hard sails pulled, andMessengersped through the water with a delicious bubbling hiss.
"How's that, umpire?" demanded Crow, turning a smiling glance on Adrian, "kindly remember next time occasion rises, that it's never worth while looking on the dark side."
"The hot side, you mean," said Adrian unabashed, "where are we going now?"
"Out," answered his sister briefly.
"Good. Let's get away from our native land for a bit--it's stuffy. Besides I want to look at it from a distance, it enlarges one's mind."
So Christobel, like the master mariner in "The Wreck of the Hesperus", "steered for the open sea", and Adrian, whose appetite was enlarging as well as his mind, decided that dinner was of more importance than anything else, and diving into the saloon began fetching up plates, food, cups and lemonade; asMessengerwas on an even keel, and the breeze held, the conditions were ideal and there was nothing to worry about. As they ate, they planned the excursion with precision. They were going out, but the ebbing tide was carrying them northward--Peterock way, that is to say; presently they would tack, and from a distance of some seven miles set a straight course on a "soldier's wind" for the pretty town. They fixed the hour at which they would arrive, how long they would stop, and how short a time it would take them to get back--under the very satisfactory conditions of fair tide and fair wind.
As a rule, this is the way of all ways to upset everything; and to-day the rule held good.
First the wind dropped--dropped--and ceased. One moment the sails were drawing with firm pressure; actually the next moment they hung limp--not a cord stirring. At the same time, as Crow said, "someone blew the candle out".
As it happened she gave an exclamation and looked up. A bank of dense black cloud had covered the high sun that had shone upon them till then. The sky was divided in two by a distinct line. To seaward, blue, clear, exquisite. To landward and above the vivid broken coast hung massed clouds of most fearsome appearance. Clouds above clouds--the lowest, greyish battalions tearing along at headlong speed; above them others of purple black, moving statelily at a different angle; above them again piled heaps of strange shapes, shot and lined with coppery tints. These were moving at a different pace, and in a different direction.
As far as eye could see over the hilly land was black. And the black was devouring the sunny blue.
Christobel looked up, round, and landward. Then she said in rather a small voice:
"Howhorrid!" and turned her eyes seaward.
Adrian contemplated the heavens with a frown, then he got up, saying one might as well put away the things. He put them away, and incidentally made everything snug inside; nothing was left loose to shift or roll.
Christobel heard him doing it and guessed that he expected it would be necessary.
Presently he came up the short companion-way, put his head out and stared at the sky again. The line of black was advancing swiftly over the blue.
"We shall have big rain, old lady," he said. "I don't know how much wind! Of course, it's only thunder, but----"
Low down over the hills shot out a succession of wicked fiery darts. They stabbed downwards into the quiet land as though they would destroy it. Deep ominous rumblings followed.
"I think I rather hate it," said Crow uneasily.
"I'll get the mackintoshes out of the fore lockers, expect we shall find a use for them before we are through with this beano! You'll have to put yours on," Adrian said, then he laughed. "When it comes, it'llcome."
Then they both laughed, and Christobel as usual found support and comfort in her brother's matter-of-fact way of looking at things. She was no coward. Her courage was of a high order, though she was not aware of it, but certain conditions affected her imagination and made icy thrills run all over her.
Adrian would have said "It's only a few clouds--what does that matter?" Equally he would have said of a dark night and its mysteries, "If it were daylight you wouldn't mind! What's the difference? There's nothing there."
While she gazed at the towering masses that hung over sea and land with dread in her eyes, Adrian thought about mackintoshes.
"When the rain comes I shan't mind," said Crow, "rain is only--well, rain."
"How true," murmured Adrian, "and being rain it wets."
They both laughed again, and the skipper felt better.
But even Addie was quite silent before the wetting part came.
The land was invisible now, except when those stabs of flame tore splits in the barrier; then the two watchers could see the dark breathless combes and the big headlands showing black and rugged. But it seemed as though there was no end to the piling weight of cloud that now almost covered the sea, the vivid contrast of the blue space over the shining horizon making it the darker. The growlings and rumblings had now turned to crashes, the noise adding to the dread.
At this phase Adrian questioned whether it would not be well to get the mainsail in--it would be so wet, he suggested, and they could do with the mizzen well enough; but Christobel did not agree.
"If the wind is bad we can drop the peak," she said, "after all it's not like a cutter mainsail--they are so huge. We've only just enough to send us along nicely. Besides, once we stow it it will take ages to set again. Let's risk it."
So they decided to "risk it", which was an instance of Crow's way of looking at things. She was not afraid to face a possible gale--but she was horribly afraid of the look--the influence--of that overwhelming pile of gloomy cloud.
"I wonder how many 'volts' are playing skittles up there," remarked Adrian thoughtfully, "great Scotland! If one knew how to box it all up and use it for transport power--engines of every sort and kind! Why can't I invent something! It ought to be a British monopoly--we could switch it on to any nations that played the fool--and there we should be---- Hullo--see that tender drop, Crow? A wash-hand basin would hardly have held it--put this thing on."
"This thing" was, of course, the mackintosh.
The brother and sister were busy for a few seconds, then they sat down again armoured--in sticky, shiny oilskins, and sou'westers well drawn over their ears.
"Go inside, Addie, why should two swim?" said Crow, speaking loud through the deafening riot of crashes.
"Oh no," shouted Adrian with weighty sarcasm, "I'll go to bed, and light the stove, and tuck myself up with a hot-water bottle; better still, you could leave the tiller and tuck me up! By the way, that reminds me--aren't you about fed up with steering?"
Crow shook her head, and spread both hands out with a meaning gesture--only her elbow stayed the tiller in place.
Adrian understood; it was just a question of waiting, so he varied the monotony by going forward to batten down the forehatch, coil in loose sheets, make fast the anchor, and see that the peak halyard was nowhere hitched or encumbered. Then he returned aft and shut the door of the main cabin, commenting still on the size of one or two splashes, which he declared would have filled the kettle; the door slid along in grooves and was proof against heavy seas or torrents of rain. Then he turned an inventive eye on the dinghy, which was rocking sleepily under their quarter, and suggested that she might be used as a "wind anchor" if she filled up.
"Supposing we get a real howler," said Adrian, "we could make her fast to the bowsprit, you see, and just ride."
It was while they were laughing over this brilliant idea that Crow saw the grey wall coming, and sprang to attention as it were, standing up--an alert grip on the tiller.
It seemed to reach from the bank of blackness to the sea, and shut off the land like a blind. It was coming towards them--coming out to sea ushered by a noise like the rush of rapids--an immense volume of rain water, descending in lines straight as harp strings, and striking the level sea. It was very amazing, and Christobel gazed with awe; she had never seen anything quite like it, because a stretch of land has so many interruptions that you cannot see thelineas you can on miles of water. Besides, water striking water like that is a very wonderful thing, foam fringes the edge of it all along, hissing like a boiler.
"This looks as though it meant to hurt our feelings--especially the dinghy's," said Adrian cheerfully, "she isn't used to bad manners."
Crow shrank instinctively as the rush of the advancing thing enveloped the yawl. They were battered by such rain as she had never experienced before, yet once into it, all her dread was dispelled like a nightmare.
Rain fell on the deck like the rattle of bullets, and in a minute the whole place was a wild wash of water pouring through scuppers, water streaming into the well, water heaving and lifting everything that could be pushed out of place. Crow held on to the tiller, but there was nothing doing in the sailing way--yet--nothing but water which seemed to nail them motionless by sheer weight. She glanced aside at the little boat, and saw her filling up swiftly--"Oh, poor dinghy," she gasped aloud--but there was no time to do anything, or even consider doing it, for something was coming at the back of the rain that asked for all her attention.
A puff of strong, chill wind----
Messengerleaned heavily to starboard, the flattened sea seemed to rise up in a line of foam under her quarter, water poured in at the streaming scuppers--and away she went--blinded--battered--drenched--away and away like a hunted creature flying for its life.
Certainly five minutes passed before these two adventurers began to take stock of their situation. So far, they had just let drive, steering the only possible course, straight ahead. At the end of five minutes the force of the downpour began to abate, but the wind was increasing.
As soon as speech was possible Adrian asked where she thought they were going?
The skipper laughed rather tremulously--it had been a strenuous five minutes.
"What about America? We might call on President Wilson. Please remember we can go where we please on the High Seas now! No more permits--no more 'out of bounds'. The question is, where can you get your hair cut?"
"Anywhere will do between here and Land's End," answered Adrian generously.
The rain was pouring off his sou'wester, over his nose. He looked very large and cheerful.
Now this was approximately the moment when Pamela assured her mother--on Adrian's authority--that the voyagers would be on shore at Tamerton or Netheroot! It was no doubt fortunate for Mrs. Romilly that she could not see the facts of the situation.
The straining yawl was driving her way through apparently limitless grey sea, of which the churning foam was taken by a wild wind and flung ahead in stinging mist. The sky, so far as it could be seen, was a froth of whirling cloud; everything was grey and confused--no land--no order--no outline.
"I believe we are going straight out to sea," said Crow.
"Do you?" Adrian was not impressed, "we may be going anywhere--all ways look alike. Jolly untidy view I call it! And look here, what about that wretched dinghy? She's about full up, and to judge by the way she's towing weighs about two ton! In one of these jerks we shall snap the painter; and then--she'll sink like a ton of sand."
Of all things in the world Christobel dreaded what she called "playing with boats" in the open sea, under conditions like the present. She pictured a sickening lurch, Addie overboard--driving to leeward--swallowed up in hideous grey confusion, herself helpless! Her lips grew white, but all she said was:
"Plenty of time yet."
Adrian laughed, flecks of many colours dancing in his hazel eyes.
"How true! And the world before us! I say, Crow, isn't this absolutely top-hole?"
"Hum--hum--please remember, my dear child, that we've got to come back."
"Plenty of time," said Adrian, echoing her words.
"I'll agree with you, when the rain stops, and I can see where we are;" Christobel shook herself as she spoke, and then looked in an interested manner at the wet drippings.
Adrian reverted suddenly to his unpleasant idea about the dinghy. There was no doubt that she was a serious pull back--a heavy and dangerous drag on the yacht. Crow saw it was inevitable, so she made her conditions. Adrian should bail out if she might bringMessengerup into the wind and lie-to, while he chose to poise himself in critical attitudes.
"Otherwise, I simply won't," declared the skipper with decision.
Adrian saw no necessity, of course. There was more zest in a really dangerous operation! However, he made no objection and Crow put the helm hard down. The yawl answered like a horse with a tender mouth. Round she came on a sweeping curve, the wet sails first shivering, and then giving out a succession of loud reports. A moment after and they were on a level keel in comparative quiet, leaping at the waves with some sort of regularity.
"Phew! What a comfort!" exclaimed Christobel, stretching both arms. Then she lashed the jerking tiller, while her brother hauled over the foresail sheets, and braced in the mainsail close.
The wind rushed by them with the same force, but they did not feel it, of course, and there was time to take stock, and put their "house in order", so to speak. Moreover, the skipper had pleasure in the conscious knowledge that if Addie did fall overboard it would be easy enough for him to regain the yawl.
She laughed with sudden joyousness.
"What's the joke?" asked her brother.
"I feel like the frog-footman inAlice Through the Looking-glass, 'I shall stay here--on and off--for days, and days'. It's very appropriate to one's wishes."
"Well, we needn't go home," Adrian remarked as he hauled in the small boat cautiously, "I mean we can go back by train, and leave the yawl----"
"Where?"
"Oh, anywhere."
This was not at all explicit, but Crow understood his meaning, which was that they were not bound to sail back to Bell Bay. They could make some port, and, putting theMessengerin safety, return by rail.
"We'll see where we are when the clouds roll by," she answered; "it's not going on, Addie. I believe firmly that we shall have a perfect evening."
Adrian, divesting himself of his oilskins, and his boots--"in case the bally thing sank with him," as he explained, made no answer to his sister's expectations. But about ten minutes after, when he climbed over the counter, his work well done, he repeated that there was any amount of time, and it would be much better fun to go home some other way.
The storm had either dispersed or "gone to America", they thought. It had changed the whole aspect of the scene into a desolate waste of tossing grey sea and driving grey cloud, but there was no more lightning, very little rain, and a mere mutter of far-away thunder.
The voyagers found it was just on three o'clock, and Adrian suggested they should steer by compass. He wanted to know where it was.
"Mollie put it somewhere," answered Crow, with cheerful vagueness most unbecoming in a skipper.
So Adrian unlocked the door of the main cabin, and slid it open.
"Wonderful how whiffy any boat gets when you shut her down, even for half an hour, with everything close," he remarked, putting his head within and sniffing critically, "commend me to an oil-stove on a small yacht for an A1 stench."
Christobel sat still outside, waiting. Her mind was much easier. She realized that all conditions were quieter. She could certainly see farther. Adrian called out from below that he couldn't find the compass, so she also dived into the saloon, and hunted exhaustively. No compass. They decided that Mollie or Penberthy had taken it ashore.
To let in more light upon the search Adrian unfastened the forehatch, and then lighted the stove, because there was a "wonderful unanimity"--as somebody said, on the question of early tea, Adrian declaring he was full of salt, and Christobel that such a lot had happened since lunch.
All things then being in train for refreshment and start, the skipper hastened upstairs again, and the first thing she saw was that the dinghy had slipped her tow and gone off.
She called to Adrian, who appearing with swiftness took a comprehensive look at the shifting grey waste around.
"She can't be far off," declared Crow hopefully.
Her brother pointed to a dark blot that was heaved up by a wave, only to disappear behind another foam-tipped hill.
"Little beast," he said shortly.
"Never mind," Christobel urged cheerfully--she detected a fallen expression on his face, "never mind, Addie, it's nobody's fault. We'll soon pick her up."
As they hauled the jib over and let out the mainsheet, she added:
"Whata blessing it didn't happen when the rain was pouring, and she was full of water! She'd have sunk to a certainty."
Adrian allowed these cheering remarks to pass unnoticed.
"I thought I made her fast," he said. Such mishaps rankle.
In spite of all their efforts that dinghy evaded capture for twenty minutes at least, if not more. If anybody thinks this improbable let them try to capture a small light boat in such conditions. Many tacks seemed to succeed only in passing just out of reach; running down on the wind ended in a miss, because the pace was too swift for the careful use of the necessary boat-hook.
Adrian stood ready in the bows of the yawl, holding to the forestay, only to fail half a dozen times, once narrowly escaping a dive. After that he pursued operations from the counter, making Crow very nervous.
"Hold on, child, for mercy's sake," she urged, "do consider wretched me if you go overboard!"
Adrian was just in the heat of proving that it would be actually to her advantage if he fell overboard--couldn't he reach the dinghy more easily--when Christobel, partly by sheer luck, brought the yawl up into the wind on the very spot, so cleverly that she seemed to stop side by side with the runaway. A swoop of the boat-hook, a moment's tension, and Adrian had grasped the trailing tow-rope.
Christobel blew a very loud sigh of relief, she had been very intent on the capture. Immediately on that came an exclamation of surprise, and Adrian rose from his knees to see what new excitement was coming their way.
CHAPTER VI
"I wouldn't have believed it of Pam!"
The heavy atmosphere of spray, rain, and driven cloud that had enveloped the yacht up till now was passing bodily over to seaward. From beneath the curtain of it towards the north appeared--in brilliant sunshine--a wonderful line of coast showing up in rain-swept clearness. Above it the sky was blue; the purple and emerald hills glowed in the setting.
"Oh, Addie, what a dream of beauty! We shall be in it directly--just look how all the murky stuff is drifting away over the sea! I say, though, aren't we a long way out--miles and miles!"
Adrian dived below to search for the glass, which fortunately had not gone ashore with the compass. Christobel with narrowed eyes, tried to distinguish landmarks. The sunlight over the coast was growing stronger every moment.
After bringing the glass to bear on the scene Adrian gave a joyful chuckle.
"Who'd have thought it, Crow," he cried, pointing rapidly from place to place as he named them. "See--there you are! The Beak miles behind us. There's the Bell Ridge, ever such a way back. There's the lighthouse--white as a big tooth. There's the high Down up above Ramsworthy--with the glass you can see the rows of new houses above Netheroot sands! Do you see where we are, old girl? Almost level with Salterne Harbour! Here's the Heggadon bluff exactly opposite, and, of course, just round the corner of that you get the entrance to the estuary. It is simply the neatest thing in life. Why, I pictured that we were somewhere between Peterock and Bell Bay, with all the hard work to do coming back against this northerly breeze--and here we are only a mile or two from the harbour with a fair wind, and please note tide in our favour still. Now look here--we chuck Peterock, of course, and make for Salterne while we have tea--go right up to the bridge and pick up some spare moorings. Put a decent chap in charge of the yawl. Get my hair cut, and go back by train. How's that?"
"And wire to Mum as soon as we get into the town," added Christobel behind the glasses.
"Oh, that's of course," said Adrian, who was restless with excitement, "come on then, let's have tea--any amount of tea, I'm as hollow as a drum. Give me the tiller, you've been at it for an age. The stove's all ready--by the way, I told Mother Jeep to give us about a dozen hard-boiled eggs, I knew I could eat six! I say, Crow, isn't it the very limit to come out down here? Who'd have imagined such dazzling luck. When you come to think of it, losing the dinghy was about the best thing that ever happened to us----"
And so on ... Adrian glowing with optimism which was his normal condition--when not in the depths of despondency.
Christobel was supremely happy too. The sun shone. Addie was very content, and Mrs. Romilly would receive a wire. She made tea, and sang under her breath.
It was nearly five o'clock when they crossed the humming bar, between the lovely slopes of Peverell and Tamerton. The wind dropped suddenly, because the huge bluff called the Heggadon formed a complete screen, but the tide still acted a friendly part, for, though it was turning outside, the change was not completed inside, as harbours and all inlets of the sea are half an hour to an hour later than the main tide outside.
TheMessengerswept in smoothly on the top of the flood, under the most perfect conditions possible. The beautiful estuary looked like an inland sea, with here and there the long back of a sandbank showing above the ripple.
"We'll do it again, Crow, won't we?" said Adrian, beaming satisfaction, "why, it's nothing."
"No," allowed the skipper, eyeing the wet sails thoughtfully.
"Look at the time, my good girl--look! Five o'clock. And when did we leave Bell Bay?"
Christobel thought it was about 11.30.
"So it was--well, what's that? Five hours and a half--and not plain sailing, mind you, either--but a rattling thunderstorm, and a lost dinghy! I call it great!"
Crow admitted that it was great.
"But I'm afraid we shan't get home till rather late," she added.
Adrian briefly reviewed the train time-table, which was decidedly limited in that part of the world.
"We shall want something extra to eat in the town," he said, "but mind you, one can do an awful lot in the eating line in ten minutes. I know, because I've tested. Let's say 6.20, Crow, and get to Five Trees at about 6.45----"
"Addie, wecan't," broke in Christobel, dismayed, "we are simply bound to miss that train. We are going awfully well, but it ought to take nearly an hour to reach the bridge, and then there's all the work of stowing, and finding a man--and your hair--and the wire--Oh, we can't do it!"
"Well, there's only one other train, the last one, what's that--leaves Salterne about five minutes to nine. Beastly few trains! Well, what do you say?"
Christobel considered with a disturbed expression of face.
"Well," went on Adrian, who quite refused to see any drawback to the joy of the situation, "well, look here, Crow. We'lltryfor the 6.20, and if we miss it we'll go by the nine o'clock."
There was no doubt at all about the missing. The wind lessened to a mere breath, and the tide was beginning to turn against them during their sail up the last long reach. They got to the bridge in a state of "sleepiness", as the skipper called it--so much so that they had to submit to receive assistance from a person of the "long-shore" kind, who had fastened a speculative eye upon them the moment they appeared at the turn by the big shipyard. He came to meet them, in a clinker-built boat, rowing weightily--he was very like the men in W. W. Jacobs' stories. Adrian accepted a tow and the offer of "a little pair o-moorings where the oldFair Hopelays when she's in harbour".
Adrian accepted, assuring Christobel over his shoulder that it was the only thing to do, and far the quickest.
The mariner went slow, slower; "slow as the wheels of evolution", as a certain story says. He hailed kindred spirits on the quay, and the small matter of picking up a moorings buoy was turned into a positive function--and would have to be paid for as such, of course!
Christobel groaned aloud, then laughed. It was no use worrying.
Adrian, whistling between disparaging remarks on the manners and customs of long-shore persons, took it easily.
"Lots of time before nine o'clock, Crow," he said.
They went into the town about the time the 6.20 p.m. arrived at Salterne, and sent off their wire. After that the skipper resigned herself to calm enjoyment. The afternoon, since the storm dispersed, had been so beautiful that Mrs. Romilly could hardly have worried so far, and the telegram would secure the rest.
Adrian had his hair cut. The necessary feeding was not a matter of ten minutes, but a most delightful meal; finally Crow rejected a suggestion of "The Pictures for about half an hour or so"--nothing would induce her to risk missing that train--and they sat in the station in the warm darkness. It was very quiet, and sparely lighted. She was happy enough, but Adrian was rather regretful about going at all.
"I see what we ought to have done," he said, "wired to Mum that we were sleeping on board in the harbour. What an awful pity. I suppose we couldn't do it now, Crow?"
"Can't send a wire now," answered Christobel.
"Pity. That walk from Five Trees to Bell Bay is rather a grind. If we stayed on the yawl we could sail home to-morrow morning."
"We can't stay on the yawl--Mother would be in fits, when we've wired we are coming by this train. Addie, don't have a fleeting mind. Let's talk about something else."
But the train came in from Riversgate--they could see it winding along out of the far hills to the south of the harbour and crossing the bridge like a mechanical toy--they got in, and went over to the end of the carriage from which the wide estuary was visible under the young moon. Such a wonderful sight, with sandhills exposed and a hundred different channels sending tides out to sea.
"I wouldn't live inland if you paid me to," said Adrian firmly.
"'And so say all of us'," quoted Crow in an ardent whisper.
Then they were silent--looking out.
Twenty to twenty-five minutes after that, they drew into the little moorland station, high, fresh, and lonely, under the moon. There were still clouds about, which made the shadows more eerie. It was all beautiful and mysterious as only the far west country can be. The brother and sister heartily agreed that the whole day had been well worth living.
"I'm not sure this isn't best of all," said Crow.
Adrian was planning arrangements for fetching the yawl, and they covered the long stretch of white road in quick time; no walking is so delightful as that in moonlight, with all the world to oneself. Owls hooted from the trees, and in a distant copse a nightingale suddenly began his song--more perfect for the space and loneliness.
The Romilly pair became silent. Conversation seemed almost irreverent.
They were approaching the Folly Ho turn. Suddenly into the quiet broke a monotonous light sound--the tapping of feet on hard ground; someone was running at an even pace.
"We're not the only people alive to-night," said Christobel in a low voice, "I thought we were."
"Coming from Peterock way," Adrian said, "we shall see who it is in a jiff; they are bound to come in front of us, unless they jump the hedge into the field. Sounds like a girl running."
"Why?" asked Christobel, "much more likely to be Peter Cherry, or someone like that. There are not many girls to run when one comes to calculate."
They were approaching the turn. The road before them was white and clear, the trees at the corner looking curiously distinct. With one accord both ceased to speak, and gave all attention to the light regular sound that drew nearer.
Pat, pat, pat--fell the running feet, and from the side-road appeared a figure. In a moment it was speeding down hill in front of the interested pair.
"Addie!" gasped Christobel, with startled emphasis.
"My only aunt!" ejaculated Adrian, "who'd have thought it."
"You see who it is?"
"Rather!"
"But, Addie, what's she doing coming from Folly Ho, this time of night?"
"Why ask me?" said her brother with reason.
"Mother thinks she's in bed, of course," went on Christobel in a troubled voice; "I'm sure it can be explained, but it is horrid. It's utter bad form. I wouldn't have believed it of Pam."
Adrian maintained a gloomy silence. Brothers never approve of unconventional explosions on the part of sisters; especially very pretty sisters of Pamela's age. It is taken as a matter of course that they are not old enough for independent action.
With one accord the two elders increased their pace to a fast walk, then to a trot.
"We shall see her directly," said Crow, "she wasn't going so very fast, and the road past Woodrising is perfectly straight for some way."
They reached the corner. Ahead of them, some way down the hill, was a running figure.
Adrian put his fingers to his mouth and made a long, harsh whistle like a steam escape.
For a moment they saw a face, as the girl checked and glanced round. But she did not stop, she ran on again, evidently faster.
"Jolly well ashamed of herself," said Adrian, rigidly disapproving. "She can't escape, Crow. She'll be ahead of us--in sight--all the way home."
It is a proverb never "to boast", that is to say, never to reckon on a hope as a fact--lest something unexpected spoils the hope. In this case the moon failed the pursuers. They had been so intent on Pamela that neither of them noticed a big patch of cloud sailing swiftly up from the north. In a moment the moon was shut off, and in a minute the darkness was pretty complete, for the cloud was a heavy one.
"Oh--dash it!" exclaimed Adrian irritably, "just when we were sure."
"Never mind, we can run just the same. We shall get used to the dark, and anyway, Addie,shecan't run fast any more than we can. One can't help taking care, when one can't see."
"Hedges are getting clearer," suggested Adrian, "funny how quickly one gets used to things. This Woodrising wall is plain as the lighthouse."
They ran on--down hill always, passed the long line of wall, and just as the overhanging shrubs and sheltering height of Fuchsia Cottage hill-side showed a big black patch on the right hand, the moon suddenly appeared again, and everything around--road, hedges, bushes, and towering steep above cottage and church--came out again as clear as a painted scene.
Adrian and Christobel both looked ahead down the road. It was empty. Not a soul in sight.
"Where's she gone to?" said Christobel, stopping.
"Don't ask me, my good girl," Adrian was cross, unquestionably, "I suppose she's up to some trick."
Such a suggestion did not please Crow.
"You shouldn't talk like that, Addie," she expostulated. "Pam doesn't play 'tricks'. She isn't that sort of girl. None of us are. There may be something up we don't know about that sent her up to Folly Ho. Perhaps Mother wanted a message taken to Timothy Batt--one never knows! The thing I don't understand is, how she's managed to disappear, considering the road is about as straight as a ruler, and the moonlight is bang on it, and there's only one way home."
Adrian said nothing; in silence, and at a quick walk they arrived opposite the shaded gate of Fuchsia Cottage. Here Christobel stopped again. "She can't have sunk through the earth, Addie, and she wouldn't have jumped the hedge! I believe she went in here. Mother may have given her a message to the Little Pilgrim--why not?"
"Why not, of course!" echoed Adrian dryly. "The sort of thing Mother would do--considering it's just on ten o'clock."
There was so much truth in this, that Christobel did not make any reply to it--she said:
"I'm just going to ask," and opened the gate.
They went up the path, mounted three short flights of brick steps that cut the three little terraces, and found themselves at a deep porch half buried in roses. Apparently Miss Lasarge heard them coming, for she appeared on the threshold of the pretty sitting-room-hall.
"Thisisnice, dear children," she said in the eager sweet voice that was one of her attractions, "come into the dining-room--the cocoa is just ready."
That was the cottage. A good-sized sitting-room hall with windows looking two ways, and a cosy little dining-room. Three bedrooms above. There was also the kitchen, where reigned Lizzie Sprot, a sturdy west-country young woman, who had lived eleven years with Miss Anne--from the age of seventeen. Lizzie Sprot had gone to bed, she always went when she had taken in the cocoa, and left Miss Anne to sit up and write letters as a rule.
"Is Pam here?" asked Christobel, as they followed the slim, grey figure into the dining-room, yet even as she asked the question she felt instinctively it was a foolish one.
"Is who here, dear? Sit down now, both of you--that's right. Two cups from the corner cupboard, please, Crow--that is delightful. Now, what is it you were asking--something about Pam?"
Christobel asked again. Adrian said nothing, except to corroborate his sister's story.
"So you think you saw Pamela come down the Folly Ho turn, and go--towards home?"
Now Miss Lasarge said this, a mere repetition of what she had just been told, in rather an uncertain tone.
Adrian said afterwards, that anyone could see she thought it was objectionable, but did not like to say so.
Christobel looked a bit anxious, but went straight to the point with the sincerity that was part of her sterling character.
"We don'tthink, Little Pilgrim, we know. The moon was bright, and the road clear as day. Addie whistled to her, and she looked round. We saw her look over her shoulder at us, but instead of stopping she only ran faster."
"Oh, that doesn't sound like Pam," murmured Miss Anne.
"But itwasPam," asserted Crow.
"Don't you think you might easily have mistaken some other girl for Pamela, dear? Moonlight is very deceptive--and you said that a cloud came directly after and obscured your vision. Really, I can't help feeling----"
"It was Pamela right enough, Miss Anne," said Adrian firmly; "she was as plain as a hayrick, pig-tail and all. No other girl in Bell Bay has hair like Pamela. Besides, when it comes to that, what other girls are there about? Mollie Shard is not here now, and if she were, she isn't the least like Pam."
There was a pause. Christobel set her cup on the table and half rose.
"You needn't go for a few minutes," suggested Miss Anne, "Mother won't be anxious. She got your wire, I know, because I was there when it came."
Christobel asked if Mrs. Romilly was anxious during the thunderstorm; and recounted their adventure in a few words--as matter of fact, the yawl affair had been driven out of her mind by this business about Pamela.
"It was a horrid storm here," said Miss Lasarge, apparently pleased to talk about something else, "terribly noisy, and very heavy rain. But I understood that your mother wasn't really anxious. She hoped you were on shore--then it came fine--so lovely, too--I never saw anything like the colours--land and sea."
Christobel stood up to go. She apologized again for calling in at such an hour.
"We only just thought there was a chance of Pam--having come in with a message----"
"I'msureyou'll find it was all right, dear Crow," said Miss Lasarge, kissing her; "I--I expect it was somebody else. You'll find Pam is in bed and asleep, unless she is sitting with your mother."
"No doubt we shall find Pam is in bed, and she'll tell us she's asleep," said Adrian, as they went out through the gate.
"Oh, don't, Addie," begged Christobel, "I'm sure there's an explanation."
Silence ensued, then she continued:
"Didn't you think Miss Anne was a tiny bit--well--confused? I thought so."
"Ithought she believed it was Pamela, but tried not to believe it, and was hunting round for excuses anyway. She certainly seemed a bit uncomfortable--besides, it's sheer rubbish to tell us it might be somebody else. She knows and we know that there isn't anybody else. But she's an awfully kind person--in fact, she's a regular little saint, she can't bear to think anybody is wrong."
As they were opening the big gates at the end of the drive, Christobel asked:
"Shall we tell Mother? Whatoughtwe to do about it?"
"You mean about seeing Pam?"
"Yes. Suppose we find Mother knows nothing and is secure and comfortable as usual, and that Pam is up in her room. Well, what ought we to do?"
"Oh, I don't know," said Adrian irritably, "it's sickening. One can't go clacking to Mother about Pam--it simply isn't done," he shut the gates with a vicious snap.
"That's what I thought," Crow was relieved, "let's wait and see what Pam says--I'll go and ask her to-night."
"Just as you like," agreed Adrian indifferently, and they went in.
Mrs. Romilly was reading the paper; she was delighted to see them, and eager to hear all details. She said she had not been anxious, because Pam told her they proposed landing if the weather was bad. At this point Adrian turned his head discreetly to conceal a smile. When the storm passed she had been quite happy; and, when the telegram came, had considered it all a most wise arrangement.
"Your hair looks so nice, darling," she said, looking approvingly at Adrian's sleek head.
Pleading sleepiness the two went off to bed, and on the landing upstairs Christobel said: "Wait a minute," and slipped down to Pamela's room at the end.
She knocked. There was no answer, so she opened the door gingerly, and put her head into the opening. A long heap in the bed stirred, and turned over with a jerk.
"Hullo, who is it; what do you want, Hughie?" demanded Pamela in the slurring tones of one but half awake.
"It's not Hughie--it's Crow. I just peeped in to see if you were awake," said Christobel, not at all pleased with herself, because she felt a wee bit mean.
"Oh, you're back. That's all right. I'm so glad. Did you have a jolly time?"
"Awfully jolly--after the thunder cleared," said Crow.
"Tell me about it to-morrow. Good-night, Crow," murmured Pamela sleepily, and relapsed into slumber.
In the passage Christobel whispered to Adrian:
"She was sound asleep--sound. I woke her, but she was only half awake."
Adrian whistled softly, and departed to his room without comment.