image: Seal_Island4.jpg
image: Seal_Island4.jpg
[Illustration: "He slipped over the cliff and was slowly lowered."Page73.]
[Illustration: "He slipped over the cliff and was slowly lowered."Page73.]
By choosing a hiding-place not directly accessible from the sea, the law-breakers put the excise authorities off the scent."
"Isn't it dry here," remarked Phillips. "The dust on the floor is as dry as powder."
"Yes, and you will find that in a few moments our footprints will be wiped out by the wind smoothing over the sand and dust. Did anybody think to bring a candle?"
"I have two, sir," replied Baker.
"Good, lad!" exclaimed Mr Trematon, approvingly. "Quite a display of foresight, eh?"
"No, sir," admitted the Scout, candidly. "They fell out of a parcel as we were carrying the baggage up to the camp last night. I picked them up and put them in my pocket, forgetting all about them till you spoke."
"All the same they will be useful. Give one to Everest, and the two will be sufficient light for us to see our way."
"Are we going to use twine as a guide, sir?" asked Atherton. "I have a ball of it."
"Not necessarily in this case, Atherton," replied the Scoutmaster. "I know the ins and outs of this place very well, and after all they are not so very extensive."
At twenty yards from its mouth the cave apparently terminated, but Mr Trematon called attention to a small hole barely eighteen inches across, and almost on the floor level.
"Slip through, Atherton, feet first and let yourself drop."
Unhesitatingly the Leader obeyed. It was an uncanny sensation allowing oneself to drop into an invisible pit, but five feet from the edge of the hole Atherton's feet encountered soft sand.
"I'm all right," he said, his voice sounding hollow and unreal in the pitch dark cave.
"Follow on, you fellows," ordered the Scoutmaster. "Pass the light to Atherton, Baker."
Soon the "Otters" found themselves in a much larger cavern, the walls of which were most fantastic shapes, while the dust on the floor, no longer disturbed by air currents, showed that the place had been visited at no distant date. There were the footprints of a man, both going and returning.
"What do you make of these, Atherton?" asked the Scoutmaster, pointing to the tracks on the sand.
Candle in hand, the Leader knelt down and examined the footmarks.
"They are the footprints of a man wearing a ten boot," he announced. "They are not those of a working man, I think, because there are no hobnails. The person, whoever he is, seems to be a timid individual, as he evidently walks on his toes; the impression of the heels are much fainter."
"A good deduction, Atherton; it looks as if we are on the verge of a mysterious discovery."
"What if the man is still in the cave, sir?" asked Green, cautiously. "He might be listening to what we are saying."
"No fear of that," replied Mr Trematon. "There has been only one man here recently, and his tracks show that he came and went again. Follow the footprints, Atherton, and see if you can make any more deductions."
Keeping by the side of the trail in order that the marks should not be obliterated the Leader proceeded slowly and cautiously, the rest of his companions following.
Ten yards from the "needle's-eye," that served as a means of access to the inner cave, Atherton discovered one used and two unused wax vestas.
"What do they suggest, Atherton?" asked Mr Trematon.
"I think, sir, that they confirm my previous theory. A poor man is not in the habit of carrying wax vestas. He is usually content with Swedish safeties. Besides, this person is evidently careless and wasteful, since he drops two unlighted vestas."
"So well, so good, Atherton," replied the Scoutmaster. "Now let's proceed."
Once or twice the tracks became confusing, since the footmarks crossed each other; but with little difficulty Atherton followed the in-going track till they stopped at a deep niche in the rocky walls on the right-hand side of the cave.
In the candle-light Atherton thoroughly examined the sand and dust. A piece of charred newspaper attracted his attention. He picked it up, unfolded it, and studied the printing.
"Quite recent," he commented. "Here is an account of the King's visit to the new Naval and Military Orphanage at Bexhill. That took place on Saturday, so that if this is not a portion of a Sunday paper, it appeared yesterday. That proves, I think, that the person, whoever he is, visited the cave as recently as yesterday."
"No doubt it was a tourist, keen on visiting the Tea Caves," suggested Everest. "His supply of matches ran short, so he made a torch of a piece of newspaper. After all there's nothing in that, except that it has given us a chance to practise spooring."
"I am not so sure of that, Everest," said Mr Trematon, quietly. "In the first place the Tea Caves are difficult of access, and a stranger would enlist the services of one of the local fishermen as a guide. This man comes alone. Secondly, he visits the cave with an avowed object: he walks straight to this place, stands almost in the same spot for some time, and then kneels. The impressions of his toes and one knee prove that. Then he returned to the open air as directly as he came."
"Perhaps he's buried something, sir," suggested Sayers.
"For the time being we will let our investigations rest," said Mr Trematon. "We have no spades with us, and should the mysterious visitor return he would notice that the soil had been disturbed, and become alarmed and suspicious. So we must endeavour to detect the man should he come again. If he were here for no good purpose it is more than likely that he will not revisit the Tea Caves till after our camp is struck."
"You mean us to dig, sir?" asked Reggie Scott.
"Yes. Unless anything unforeseen occurs we will bring spades and thoroughly examine this portion of the ground on the day before we return home. But we must be off or the 'Wolves' will wonder what has happened to us. Cover your footprints, lads."
The Scouts' footprints were carefully obliterated as they retraced their steps, an empty haversack drawn over the trail completing the finishing touches. Only a minute inspection would reveal the fact that a party of lads had traversed the inner cave.
"What have you been up to, Atherton?" asked his chum Simpson, as the Leader of the "Otters" was hauled up to the top of the cliff.
"Wait and see," retorted Atherton, laughing. "That's all right, Simpson. Mr Trematon will tell you everything round the camp fire to-night."
"I hadno idea it was so late," exclaimed the Scoutmaster, consulting his watch. "There is not enough time for us to explore the south-western portion of the Island. There is something very interesting to be seen there, but as I want to give you fellows a little surprise I won't say what it is. Perhaps tomorrow we will find time to complete the circuit of the Island."
Hungry as hunters the Scouts returned to camp, where Mayne and Coventry senior had a sumptuous tea awaiting them.
"Anything to report?" asked the Scoutmaster.
"Yes, sir," replied Mayne. "Mr Trebarwith, of Polkerwyck Farm, has been here. He brought three dozen eggs and several pounds of Cornish cream as a present. He wouldn't hear of payment when I suggested that you would square up with him. He also invites us to visit his farm to-morrow at half-past nine."
"What did you say to that?"
"I thanked him, sir, and said you would let him know this evening."
"Very good. After tea you might take a message for me. Now, lads, set to, for if you are all as hungry as I am we will make short work of this provender."
"No one else landed on the Island, I suppose?" asked Atherton.
"No, Peter Varco rowed Mr Trebarwith over, and he remained in the boat. Why do you ask?" questioned Coventry major.
"Because we came across the spoor of a recent visitor in the Tea Caves," replied Atherton, and at Mr Trematon's suggestion the lad gave his companions of the "Wolves" and the two former guardians of the camp a detailed report of what had occurred.
After tea, the Scoutmaster wrote a letter to the genial farmer, accepting his invitation, and stating that he hoped to bring the Scouts to Polkerwyck Farm to-morrow at nine-thirty. Mayne and Baker were despatched to take the missive to Mr Trebarwith, while the others were free to amuse themselves at camp games till half-past seven, when the camp fire was lighted for the customary evening palaver.
Just before sunset Mr Trematon called the Leaders and Seconds of both patrols aside.
"Atherton and Simpson, I want you to take charge of the camp till I return," he said. "Phillips and Neale will no doubt feel up to an evening stroll. I have reason to revisit the cliff immediately above the ledge leading to the Tea Caves."
As the Scoutmaster and the two Seconds passed by the ruined oratory, Neale called attention to the wild yet beautiful sunset tints. There were streaks of deep purple, orange, pale yellow and indigo in the western sky, while rugged, dark grey clouds, tipped with copper-coloured points, gave every indication that the bad weather was at hand.
"Yes," assented Mr Trematon, "the colours are remarkable. What do you say to a little experiment?"
"An experiment, sir?" asked Neale. "How?"
"Stand here, both of you, side by side," said the Scoutmaster. "Backs to the sunset: that's right. Now stretch your legs wide apart, place the palms of your hands together and bend forward till your fingertips touch the ground."
The two Scouts promptly obeyed, wondering what was the reason for this exaggerated "leap-frog" posture.
"Now look at the sunset," continued Mr Trematon.
"The colours are ever so much brighter," exclaimed both lads, who, heads downwards, were observing the western sky between their outstretched legs. "They look too bright to be real."
"All the same they are natural colours. Stand up now, or the circulation of the blood towards your head will be obstructed. Yes, it has a peculiar effect. An artist friend of mine gave me the tip. By so doing one can see the vividness of an Italian sky in the corresponding misty atmosphere of our native land. But we must be moving."
Arriving at the edge of the cliff, Mr Trematon produced from his pocket a reel of black cotton. Cutting three or four twigs from a neighbouring bush, he set these in the ground so that they projected four inches from the surface. Their exposed ends he connected up by a length of cotton.
"If anybody comes here, the broken thread will give us proof," exclaimed the Scoutmaster. "I do not suggest that anyone will come, but if they do this is the best means of detecting their presence without giving them cause of suspicion."
"But the cotton only stretches for a distance of about ten feet, sir," remarked Phillips. "If anyone descended to the ledge from a point farther along the cliffs, this arrangement would not give any warning."
"I am afraid, Phillips, you didn't use your eyes sufficiently this afternoon. If you had you would have noticed that at all other places except this the cliffs overhang the ledge, and anyone being lowered would drop clear of the path leading to the caves. Hence it is reasonable to conclude that anybody knowing of the existence of the caves would naturally know the easiest means of gaining the ledge. Do you follow?"
"Yes, sir," answered the Second.
"Now let us be off, back to the camp. Those fellows are enjoying themselves to be sure. You can hear them quite plainly at this distance—it is another sign that stormy weather is near when sound travels clearly over a long distance."
Ten minutes after "Lights out" the camp at Seal Island was wrapped in slumber. Dead tired with their exertions and aided by the health-giving fresh air, the Scouts were soon lost to the world, till a blaze of red in the eastern sky betokened the dawn of another day.
Before réveillé, Atherton was up and about. His mind was full of the tracks that had been discovered in the Tea Caves. It was not presentiment that influenced his thoughts. His deductions were based upon actual facts that were certainly suspicious. On the other hand the mysterious visitor might have gone to the cave for a perfectly legitimate purpose. In that case the following up of the clues would result in nothing more or less than a little practice.
Something more than curiosity prompted him to run across the Island to the edge of the cliffs by the caves. Phillips had told him of the harmless and effective booby-trap that the Scoutmaster had prepared.
The cotton had been snapped.
Atherton knelt down and examined the ground, but the dew lay thick upon the long grass, and no sign of human footprints was visible.
Upon his return to the camp, the Scout found Mr Trematon clad in a long overcoat, for the morning air was chilly.
"The cotton has been broken, sir," announced Atherton.
"I am not surprised," replied the Scoutmaster. "As a matter of fact I expected that it would be, for by a stupid blunder on my part I tied the thread without making allowance for its shrinking through the moisture of the night air. But apart from that, Atherton, I have made a discovery. Two of the thole-pins have been taken out of one of the boats."
"Perhaps Mayne and Baker brought them ashore when they returned from the mainland last night, sir?"
"Oh, no: I went down to the landing-place last night to see that the boats were properly secured. The thole-pins were in their proper places then."
"One of the fishermen, perhaps——"
"They are honest men, and it is against their primitive yet effective code of honour to trifle with the gear of anybody's boat. Still, although there is a faint possibility that such might have taken place, and we have an explanation for the broken thread, the double occurrences seem to suggest very forcibly that some one has landed on Seal Island during the night and has paid a visit to the Tea Caves."
"Are we going to explore the caves again to-day, sir?"
"If time permits. Our morning and afternoon are pretty full up: we may make an opportunity after tea. But turn those fellows out, Atherton; it's time, and there's a lot to be done before we pay a visit to Farmer Trebarwith."
As soon as the meal was over and the camp tidied up, the two patrols prepared for their trip to Polkerwyck Farm. The weather still remained calm and bright, and there was little or no wind. All the same the ground-swell was troublesome, as the "Wolves" learnt to their cost, for upon landing, a heavy roller threw their boat broadside on to the beach, and drenched the lads to the skin.
"It's salt water; it won't hurt," shouted Leader Simpson to his patrol. "Our clothes will be dry by the time we get to the farm."
Meanwhile Atherton had landed and was quietly and unostentatiously examining the other boats hauled up on shore or else lying within the shelter of the land-locked harbour. Presently he went up to Mr Trematon.
"There are our thole-pins, sir: I found them in that double-ended boat," he announced, pointing to a whaler lying just inside the old stone pier.
"One of Peter Varco's boats," observed the Scoutmaster. "Perhaps, after all, he had occasion to land on Seal Island last night. He might have gone to look at his boat in Dollar Cove. We'll ask him."
The old Cornish fisherman was discovered sitting in the sun and mending his nets by the side of his cottage.
"No, sir. Sure I hadn't no call tu go over tu t'Island last night. Now you comes tu mention it, sir, I did notice as 'ow some one 'ad a-meddled wi' my boat, thePride o' Polkerwyck. Says I tu myself, 'Tis they young gen'lmen over up-along, wot come ashore last night."
"How did you know that one of your mates hadn't used her, Peter?" asked Mr Trematon.
"Sure, none o' they wud a-made fast the painter wi' a granny, sir."
"And none of my Scouts would have done so: that I feel sure," added the Scoutmaster with conviction. "No, Peter, it's not any of our lads. Some one, I believe, is in the habit of paying night visits to Seal Island."
"Better not let Roger Penwith, Sir Silas' bailiff, catch 'em," said the old fisherman with conviction. "All as goes tu Seal Island after sunset without permission be liable tu be taken up for poachin', sir."
Returning to the harbour Atherton and the Scoutmaster made a careful examination of the boat in question. The thwarts and bottom-boards were scratched and almost destitute of paint or varnish, but in addition to the innumerable traces of old Peter's iron-heeled boots, Atherton made the discovery that some one wearing indiarubber shoes had recently been in the boat.
"Size ten," he added, after measuring one of the footprints with his finger joint. "And seven bars across the soles."
"Pity we did not know of this before we left the Island, Atherton," said Mr Trematon. "However, we must keep a sharp look-out for a spoor up the road."
The two patrols formed up and began their two-mile march to the farm. The traces of the person wearing indiarubber shoes were at first fairly well defined. In spite of the large size the wearer had taken comparatively short steps, a circumstance that coincided with the discovery made in the Tea Caves. But half way up the hill the spoor broke away to the left. Here the short, sun-dried grass effectually baffled all farther traces.
The Scouts were, for the time being, baulked. There was nothing left but to continue their way to the farm.
"Good-marnin',Mr Trematon, and good-marnin' tu you young gen'lmen," exclaimed the genial farmer as the patrols halted outside the farmhouse. "Du'ee come right in and have a drink o' milk. Mary, du'ee ask missus tu bring a score o' glasses out; cups'll du, if there bain't enow."
Refreshed, the Scouts began their tour of inspection, their host accompanying them and answering to the best of his ability the innumerable questions with which his visitors plied him. Not once but a dozen times Farmer Trebarwith was forced to own himself beaten, so intricate were some of the problems put to him.
"There be Polkerwyck House," announced the farmer, pointing to a long, two-storeyed stone mansion lying in a broad valley snugly sheltered from the north and east by a steep, tree-clad hill. "Sir Silas Gwinnear lives there when he's at home, which ain't often. Heard the latest news about his affair in Lunnon, sir?"
Mr Trematon shook his head. Newspapers were to be almost strangers to him during the fortnight at Seal Island. Atherton felt a strange sensation in his throat; he realised that if the miscreants had been caught it meant an end to his holiday at Seal Island, since he would have to be one of the principal witnesses for the prosecution.
"The police says as that they knows who the villains are as half murdered Sir Silas," continued Farmer Trebarwith. "Only the rascals have padded the hoof—gone somewhares to foreign parts. They says as 'ow Sir Silas, bein' 'ead of the Associated Shippers' Federation—whatever that might mean—has upset some o' the dockers over the new scale o' payments, and the dockers have got their back up."
"Look, they're haymaking over there," exclaimed little Reggie Scott. "What fun it would be if we could toss the hay about."
"Du it, an right welcome, young gen'lmen," said the farmer. "Us be tur'ble short-handed, what with three o' my chaps 'aving gone to 'Merica, and two more down wi' mumps. Sure, I'd be main glad to see the hay safe under cover afore the rain comes on." And Trebarwith glanced anxiously towards the western sky.
"A chance to do a good turn, lads," exclaimed Atherton. "Tell us what to do, sir, and we'll tackle the job."
For the rest of the morning the Scouts toiled in the sultry air like young Trojans, tossing and carting the hay to one corner of the meadow where the farmer's men were at liberty to commence the construction of the rick. By noon, when the labourers ceased work to enjoy their mid-day meal of bread and cheese washed down with cyder, Farmer Trebarwith expressed his opinion that Scouts were main handy lads, and that, by their aid, he did not expect any difficulty in getting the crop safely under cover before the evening.
After a bounteous dinner provided by the grateful farmer, the Scouts formed up and started on their march to the lighthouse on Beware Head. Their route lay on the same road as far as Polkerwyck, and thence by a narrow cliff-path, skirting Seal Island bay to the promontory where the lighthouse is situated.
As the patrols were passing the Polkerwyck post-office—a small cottage converted into a general shop, draper's, grocer's, chandler's combined,—a smart dogcart was drawn up outside. From the shop came a tall, ungainly and not prepossessing man dressed in black. His face was pale; his eyes deep-set, shifty and heavily lined underneath; his closely trimmed side-whiskers gave the appearance of a superior manservant.
Furtively looking up and down the narrow street and giving a supercilious glance at the passing Scouts, the man jumped into the dogcart and urged the horse at a rapid and unnecessary pace up the steep road leading towards Wadebridge.
Atherton asked and obtained permission to fall out, and giving the tip to his chum Simpson, induced that worthy to accompany him into the post-office.
"Two picture postcards and two halfpenny stamps, please," he asked of the old lady who was the local representative of His Majesty's Postmaster-General.
"It be middlin' warm, sir," remarked the postmistress, as she laboriously counted out the change.
"It is," agreed the Leader of the "Otters." "By the by, I didn't know that Mr Jones lived anywhere about here."
"Mr Jones, sir?" asked the old lady in a puzzled tone.
"Yes, the gentleman who was in here a minute ago: the one who drove up in a dogcart."
"You must be making a mistake, sir," replied the old dame. "That bain't Mr Jones. No one of that name bides hereabouts—leastways I can't call the name to mind, an I've lived here maid and wife these sixty-seven years come Michaelmas. Sure, now, that wur Mr Tassh—Paul Tassh commonly socalled—as is butler up at the big house."
"Polkerwyck House?"
"Yes, Sir Silas' place."
"Thank you: I've made a mistake in supposing his name was Jones," said the Scout, and saluting he left the shop.
"I say, old fellow," exclaimed Simpson. "What's the move? You don't know anyone called Jones living about here, I feel certain."
"Neither do I," agreed Atherton calmly. "I only wanted to find out who that fellow was. He may be the man who paid a night visit to Seal Island."
"Of course he may be, but there are ever so many chances that he may not be," said the Leader of the "Wolves." "One thing I noticed: he was not wearing indiarubber shoes."
"It is not at all unusual for a man to change his shoes more than once in a day," remarked Atherton. "It was his walk that I noticed. He has big feet, yet he took very short steps. The suspicious way in which he looked over his shoulder did not impress me very favourably."
Before any more could be said the two Leaders separated to rejoin their respective patrols, and the ascent of the cliff path commenced. It was a tedious tramp up and down, as the route descended almost to the sea-level in order to traverse the numerous small streams that found their way into the bay. Five times the lighthouse was hidden by intervening ground ere the Scouts drew up at the whitewashed stone wall enclosing the lighthouse and the keepers' houses adjoining.
The lighthouse men were most painstaking in their task of explaining everything to their young guests. The clockwork and manual-worked machinery for actuating the occulting light, the ingenious construction of the lenses of the lantern, the usual and the emergency means of supplying its illumination—all were in turn shown to the Scouts, none of whom had ever been in a lighthouse before.
"Bill!" exclaimed one of the keepers in the midst of a technical discourse. "It's coming on thick. You can't see the Island already. Throw me the key of the rocket store."
The keeper addressed as Bill handed over the required article, and then drew back the curtains of the lantern room, which, during the day, were always kept closed in order to prevent the rays of the sun from damaging the dioptric lenses of the lantern. A sea-fog—another sign of an approaching storm—had banked up with considerable rapidity. Wreaths of vapour were curling over the waters of Seal Bay, while, as the keeper had announced, the Island itself was quite lost to view.
"This'll give you a chance to see how we work the explosive fog-signals," remarked the man, as he hauled down a fishing-rod-like apparatus from outside the lighthouse. "Here are the charges—gun-cotton, fired electrically; two every five minutes."
Securing the two cartridges to the forked ends of the rod, the keeper hoisted the latter to its former position and touched a key. A sharp crack, that in the outer air resembled the discharge of a seven-pounder, announced that the first of the warning signals had been fired. Ten seconds later the second was discharged, and the keeper lowered the holder to recharge it.
"What makes the light blink?" asked Scott.
"This revolving screen, sir," answered the keeper. "It is worked by the action of a slowly falling weight, after the principle of a grandfather's clock. We have to wind it every two hours. If that goes wrong we have to grind the lantern round by hand, and a precious stiff job it is."
"That's where we would come in handy," observed Baker. "Scouts to the rescue, eh?"
"All right, young gentlemen. I'll bear that in mind, and if the apparatus goes wrong while you are on Seal Island we'll signal for a party of you to bear a hand. There'll be stiff arms and aching backs in the morning, I'll warrant."
The inspection came to an end at last, and Mr Trematon led his Scouts out into the now dense fog.
Upon reaching Polkerwyck, the Scoutmaster went into the post-office, for since he had promised Phillips that he should be the hunter of the party, he had to get the lad a gun licence.
"Now you'll be all right, Phillips," exclaimed Mr Trematon. "To-morrow morning you can take my gun and see if you can knock over enough rabbits to provide us with dinner."
"There'll be a telegram for you, sir," said the post-mistress, handing the Scoutmaster a buff-coloured envelope. "Came in this afternoon, and Peter Varco telled me as there was no one on t' Island to take it, so I kept it back."
Mr Trematon hastily opened the envelope and scanned its contents, then filling in a telegraph form he handed it in and left the shop.
"Lads," he explained, "I've had bad news. Circumstances demand that I return to my home at Guildford as soon as possible. Atherton, until I send some one to take charge, you must be Acting Assistant Scoutmaster. I know I can trust you. Here is enough money to carry you on for a few days, and here is the key of the portable locker. If I hurry I may be able to catch the evening train from Wadebridge. Let me know every day how you get on."
"We are sorry, sir," said several of the Scouts in chorus.
"Thank you, lads," replied the Scoutmaster. "I trust it is not so bad as the telegram leads me to believe. Can you get across to the Island all right in the fog, or shall I ask Varco to pilot you over?"
"We'll manage all right, sir," said Atherton confidently. "I have my pocket-compass, and I know the bearings."
"Very good; now good-bye, lads; I hope you'll have a decent time in spite of the impending weather."
"Good-bye, sir," shouted nearly a score of voices with genuine regret.
The next moment Mr Trematon, hurrying up the hill as fast as he could, was lost to sight in the fog, while the "Otters" and the "Wolves" remained on the stone quay of Polkerwyck till the sound of his footsteps faded into a silence broken only by the ground-swell upon the wild and rugged coast.
"Keepclose in our wake, Simpson," cautioned Atherton, as the two boats cleared the end of the stone quay. "Give way, lads; long easy strokes."
It was an eerie experience to the two boats' crews, rowing in a dense mist that seemed to have a most bewildering effect upon all save Atherton, who, implicitly trusting to the small magnetic needle, knew that it was a matter of impossibility to miss hitting Seal Island somewhere. By having to frequently pull the starboard yoke-line Atherton realised that without the aid of the compass his boat would inevitably have described a wide circle, since the rowers on that side were pulling a stronger stroke than those on the port side.
"Rocks ahead!" shouted Everest, who was perched in the bows of the "Otters" boat.
"Stop pulling: backwater," ordered Atherton, and soon both boats were lying five yards apart and within twice that distance of the lee side of Seal Island.
"We've missed the landing, Atherton," announced Simpson.
"We have," agreed the Leader. "And what is more, I don't know on which side of it we are. One part of the cliff is very much like another. Look here, Simpson, you take your boat to the right, and I'll steer mine to the left: we cannot be very much out. The first one that finds the landing must give a hail."
The boats separated, both skirting the shore in opposite directions.
"There's some one rowing," exclaimed Everest. "Right ahead."
"I think it's Simpson's boat," replied Atherton. "It is difficult to locate sound in a fog."
Nearer and nearer came the sound, till Atherton knew that he was mistaken.
"Boat ahoy!" he bawled.
There was no reply. Whoever it was scorned to take notice of the hail, and the splash of the oars grew fainter and fainter.
"Here's the landing," announced Everest. "Why, that boat must have put off from there."
"Hope the fellow's honest," muttered Atherton, "or our camp might be ransacked. I didn't like his churlish manner in not replying. Shout to Simpson, Phillips, and let him know we've found the place."
As soon as the boats were hauled up and properly secured and their gear removed, the Scouts wended their way up the zig-zag path to the camp.
Atherton gave a sigh of relief to find that nothing had been interfered with. Speedily the tents were opened, the cooks tackled the kitchen fire, while foragers were sent to collect fuel and cover it up so that it might be dry for the morning.
As soon as the belated meal was over and the "camp fire" fairly in swing, Atherton called Simpson aside.
"What do you say to keeping watch all night?" he asked. "It may be a useless job, but there is something not quite right. I want to find out who the mysterious visitor to the Island is, and what he comes here for."
"I'm game," answered the Leader of the "Wolves." "We'll pick one fellow from each patrol and take two hours each; that will carry us through till sunrise, and I don't fancy any night prowler will be knocking about after that."
"Beastly rotten night to keep watch, though," commented the "Otters" Leader. "The mist is turning to rain. Tell those fellows to pile on more wood, make sure the tent pegs are firm and the guy-ropes eased off. They had better get into the tents before they get drenched."
With the rain the wind rose. At first it was content with moaning fitfully, but before nine o'clock it was literally howling, the explosive fog-signals still maintaining their accompaniment every five minutes.
"What's that noise?" asked Armstrong, in the interval between two stirring choruses.
The Scouts listened. Above the roar of the wind and the loud tattoo of the rain upon the drum-like canvas of the tents came a weird screech, like the shriek of a human being in agony.
"There it is again!" exclaimed Baker. "Perhaps some one has fallen over the cliff."
"It's too loud for a man's voice," said Simpson.
"All the same I don't like it," remarked Reggie Scott, in a subdued voice.
"Come on, kid, you're not afraid?" asked his Leader encouragingly, as he patted the Tenderfoot on the back.
"No, I'm not afraid," replied Scott. "But I wish that horrid noise would stop. There it goes again."
"Pick your man, Simpson," said Atherton, in a low voice. "I've spoken to Mayne and he's game. Phillips will remain in charge of our tent, and I suppose you will let Neale know that he will be responsible for order in the 'Wolves'' tent."
"Think it's any use?" asked the "Wolves'" Leader. "It's raining and blowing great guns, and a boat could hardly get across. We may be isolated here for days."
"Won't matter so long as the grub holds out," replied Atherton, cheerfully. "We'll stick to our plan. With greatcoats on we shall be all right."
As soon as the other occupants of the two tents were asleep, the two Leaders, with Mayne and Coventry major, donned their heavy coats and made their way down to the landing-place. It was hard work to prevent themselves being forced down the steep path at a break-neck pace, for the force of the wind behind them was terrific, but lower down the overhanging rocks afforded excellent protection.
"Got your flash lamp?" asked Simpson.
"I should jolly well think I have," answered Atherton. "Have you?"
"Yes; but, I say, will the tents stand it? It is blowing up there."
"They would have been down before this, I fancy," remarked Atherton. "There's that rummy noise again. What on earth can it be?"
"We'll find out to-morrow, if it keeps on," said Simpson. "Now, Coventry, you keep first watch: two hours, my fine fellow. We'll snooze in the hollow of the rocks. If anything suspicious occur, rouse us."
Sheltering as best he could, Coventry major took up his stand and commenced his lonesome vigil. He might well have been spared the task, for, although the Island acted as a kind of natural breakwater, the waves were beating so furiously on the landward side of the bay that it would be a matter of sheer impossibility for one or even three men to launch a boat.
At the end of his "trick" Coventry was relieved by Mayne, and he, too, cooled his heels in watchful inactivity. Atherton followed, and at length came Simpson's turn.
"Rain's knocking off," he remarked, as he took his chum's post. "That's one blessing."
"It will be daylight in less than an hour and a half. As soon as it is fairly light we will get back to our tents and have a decent sleep till half-past six," said Atherton. "I've neither seen nor heard a sign of anyone. There's only the howling of the wind, the noise of the fog-signals, and that peculiar shrieking sound to cheer you up, old man."
Once or twice to the lad's slightly overstrained nerves, Simpson imagined he saw something move, but unwilling to rouse his comrades he kept still long enough to make certain that his sense of sight had played him false. He was tired. Several times he caught himself dozing: his head would fall forward, only to recover itself with a jarring jerk as he became aware that he was on the point of sleeping at his post.
Suddenly, at no great distance off, came the heavy report of a gun.
The noise brought Atherton and his two companions out of their rough-and-ready shelter, and hardly able to realise what was amiss they rejoined Simpson.
"It was a gun; a vessel in distress off the back of the Island, I fancy," said the latter.
"Back to the camp for all you're worth," exclaimed Atherton. "We must turn the others out, and see if we can be of use."
But there was no need to arouse the rest of the two patrols. The detonation, sounding much louder on the higher ground than it had in the hollow where Atherton and his fellow-watchers had been sheltering, had effectually alarmed the Scouts, who, under Phillips' orders, had turned out in greatcoats, ready for action.
"Bring those ropes," shouted Atherton, striving to make himself understood above the howling of the wind, "and the large pulleys. There it goes again."
A vivid flash, outlining the crest of Seal Island, was immediately followed by the report, while simultaneously an answering rocket soared skywards from the coastguard station at Refuge Point. This was acknowledged by the lighthouse on Beware Point, and a message transmitted to Padstow summoning the lifeboat.
Bending to the storm the Scouts, bearing their gear, doubled towards the seaward side of the Island, in the direction indicated by the discharge of the gun.
Dawn was just breaking as they gained the edge of the cliffs. Below them, with her bows driven hard against an outlying rock, was a steamer of about eight hundred tons. Her funnel and masts had gone by the board, her foremast showing a stump of about ten feet above the deck. Cataracts of white water were pouring over her, while cowering on the fo'c'sle were about twenty men.
"What can we do?" asked Simpson anxiously. "We can't get a rope on board, and the cliffs are too steep to climb."
"Make fast the rope round me, old chap," said Atherton calmly. "I'm going to look over the edge to see what it is like down there."
Thus secured, the Leader of the "Otters" crawled over till he was able to command a view of the base of the cliffs.
The outlook was not promising. In the grey dawn the kelp-covered rocks were barely distinguishable from the water that lashed itself against the bulwarks of Seal Island. Close to the foot of the cliffs, and immediately below the place on which he was lying, Atherton descried a ledge about twenty feet in breadth. Although slippery with spray this flat-topped rock was sufficiently high to be out of reach of the actual waves. From it other lower ledges ran seaward, and between two of these the ill-fated steamer had piled herself up on the rocks.
"Simpson," said Atherton, hurriedly, "we must get half a dozen of our fellows down there. There we may be of use. Signal to the ship and tell them to try and send a rope ashore. It is impossible for us to heave a line to them in the face of this gale. Send down half a dozen staves after us: they may come in useful."
While Simpson was flag-wagging the message, Atherton, Phillips, Green, Mayne, Everest and Baker were lowered down to the ledge, the two Tenderfoots of the "Otters" remaining with the "Wolves." Before the last Scout was down a man was observed standing in the bows of the wrecked craft. Wave after wave broke over him, but secured by a lashing he worked desperately in order to form a means of communication with the shore with a coil of rope and a life-buoy.
"Look out!" cautioned Atherton, as the life-buoy was hove into the raging waters. "We must get hold of that, somehow."
Jack Phillips, ever resourceful, had already uncoiled about thirty feet of thin but strong line, and had bent one end to the centre of his staff. Steadied by his companions the Second of the "Otters" stood on the brink of the ledge, his staff held harpoon-wise, ready to make a thrust at the life-buoy, that was momentarily drifting nearer and nearer the shore.
Up went his arm; the ash pole darted obliquely towards the crest of a wave on which the buoy was being swept. He missed the mark by less that a foot, and the life-buoy, left by the receding wave, was jammed in an almost vertical position between two jagged rocks.
"I must wait till the next wave shifts it," he bawled to his comrades, for the roar of the wind and waves made ordinary conversation inaudible.
With a smother of foam the next breaker hurled itself against the cliff. It was lower than the preceding one and failed to dislodge the life-buoy from its resting-place.
"Has it gone?" shouted Atherton.
"No," replied Phillips, "I wish it would." Then seized by an inspiration, he cast off the line from his staff, tied it round his body and called to his chums to lower away. The next moment he was on his way down to the stranded life-buoy.
It was a distance of only ten feet, but every inch of that space was fraught with danger. Not only was there a possibility of a huge wave dashing the young Scout against the rocks with resistless force, but there were risks of losing his hold on the slippery wall and of the cord that steadied him being unable to withstand the sudden strain.
Without mishap Phillips came within reach of the object of his dangerous task. He grasped the life-buoy, and shouted to the Scouts on the ledge to haul away. To his consternation there was no attempt to raise him to safety, while on the other hand a tremendous wave was bearing down upon him.
Phillips' first impulse was to let go the buoy and swarm up the rope hand over hand. On second thoughts he realised that it was his life against the lives of all the crew of the doomed ship, and to relinquish the means of communication at this juncture would be cowardly and selfish.
Planting his heels firmly into a niche in the rocks and setting his shoulders against the natural wall, Phillips unhesitatingly cast off the cord round his waist and bent it on to the life-buoy. The wave was now barely thirty yards off, and to the inexperienced lad it looked mountainous.
"Never say die," he muttered between his tightly clenched teeth; but all the same he realised that it was the tightest corner he had yet been into in the course of the sixteen years of his life.
Then a strange thing happened. The huge breaker was preceded by another of considerable less height. Pounding against the rocks the first wave rebounded and met the dangerous one just as it was on the point of curling ere it broke. The collision was insufficient to stop the oncoming wave, but it considerably checked its impetus. It broke; the solid water swirled over the lad's legs till it reached above his knees, while for the next few seconds he was gasping for breath as he swallowed the salt-laden air.
The work he had undertaken being accomplished, Phillips hesitated no longer. Hand over hand he dragged himself, encumbered though he was by his sodden clothing, towards the ledge, till to his unbounded relief he felt his wrists grasped by his companions.
"Where's the buoy?" asked Atherton.
"Haul away," gasped Phillips, "you'll find it," and too exhausted to say more he staggered to the base of the main cliff and sat down to recover his breath.
Foot by foot the saturated rope came home till the "Otters" hauled ashore a large block, through which was rove a heavier rope.
"It's a kind of life-saving line, lads," exclaimed Atherton. "Make fast the pulley as quickly as you can. Wedge these staves between these two rocks. See they don't slip: they'll stand the strain."
As soon as this was done a message was signalled to the ship announcing that all was in readiness.
Without delay those on board began to haul on the endless rope, and the Scouts saw a man, seated in a life-buoy, leave the stranded vessel.
The next instant he was buried in a white-crested wave. The strain upon the ropes was terrific, but they stood the test right well, and as the breaker swept ahead the man was found to be still clinging to the buoy. Thrice ere he was hauled to a place of safety he was overtaken by the waves, till quite exhausted the first survivor was assisted to the most sheltered position on the ledge.
Again and again the buoy made its double journey, and each time it returned with one of the crew. Ropes were lowered from the summit of the cliff, and as the rescued men were hauled up by the "Wolves" they were escorted to the camp, whither the three Tenderfoots had previously been sent to prepare hot coffee.
Four men only remained on board. The hull was already showing signs of parting amidships. The tide had fallen considerably, and the task of hauling the buoy with its living burdens up to the ledge continually became harder.
One of the four, slipping into the buoy, began the hazardous journey. Half the distance was accomplished in safety, when a huge wave swept over and passed the doomed vessel.