When Captain Ichabod left the Island in haste to get medical help for the unconscious Ethel Marion, Doctor Gifford Garnet stood before the shack and watched the red skiff as it rose and fell on the billows until it was well on its way to Beaufort. Then, with a smile of satisfaction, he turned and entered the abode where the girl was lying with no sign of life save the gentle rhythm of the bosom as it rose and fell with her breathing. Now, once again, he knelt by the bedside. For a little, he stroked the forehead with deft fingers, then touched her wrist and counted the pulse. It was evident that he found the condition of his patient satisfactory, for a pleased expression came in place of the anxiety that had hitherto marked his features.
Leaving the bedside, Doctor Garnet went to the kitchen stove, where he opened the oven door and took out the batteries he had removed from the little cedar tender. The intense heat of the oven had thoroughly dried these, so that they were again in working condition, together with the spark coil. The Doctor carried the attachments from the shack to the launch, in which he installed them. This accomplished, he succeeded, after a great deal of straining effort, in getting launched the small craft, which had been left high up on the sand. By means of an oar, he paddled the boat around to the Captain's miniature wharf. He made it fast here and then busied himself in tuning up the engine. When at last it was running smoothly, he threw in the clutch, and steered the launch toward the wreck ofThe Isabel. As he neared the oyster rocks, he slowed down the engine, and ran directly over the sunken part of the vessel. There, he peered intently over the side into the depths of the water. Of a sudden, he drew back as if in fright, and his face became ghastly pale. He threw in the clutch and steered at full speed back for the landing. One glimpse of the dead eyes glaring up at him had sufficed. Though he was a physician, inured to dreadful sights, he quailed before this hideous spectacle.
At the landing, he hurriedly made the boat fast, and then ran swiftly to the shack. He disappeared for a moment inside, and then came forth bearing his medicine case and blankets. He stowed the case in the launch and spread out the blankets in the bow. This done, he returned to the shack. When he issued from it again, he staggered under a burden almost too great for his strength—the unconscious form of Ethel Marion. He bore her with what haste he could to the landing and gently placed her within the blankets.
At this moment, Doctor Garnet looked in all reality the part of a wild man. He was coatless and hatless. The strong breeze made new tangles in his already disheveled hair. Then, through long seconds, he stood staring bleakly at the distorted and broken yacht. Abruptly there came from his lips a weird wail of distress. That cry meant that everything good in life was over for him. His face set in sullen lines, as he loosed the painter and seated himself aft by the engine. He opened the throttle, and, heading to the northward, soon left the sands of Ichabod's Island and those staring eyes of the dead man far behind.
So absorbed had the Doctor been in his purpose of flight that he failed even to see the action of Shrimp. Just as the launch began to move away from the wharf, the rooster leaped lightly to the forward deck. It never occurred to him that he might be unwelcome. He entered the boat as he would have the skiff for a voyage with Ichabod. He was a sociable bird, and fond of a cruise. When the opportunity offered he seized on it with pleased promptness. By the time that Doctor Gifford Garnet chanced to observe Shrimp's presence, the launch was at such a distance from the Island that it would have been folly for him to turn back for the sake of restoring the creature to its place.
The launch tossed and pitched dangerously when it came into the broad reaches of Core Sound. It seemed indeed at times that it must inevitably be swamped. But the Doctor had skill and daring, and now, in the face of this new danger, he was cool and resourceful. Here there were no rocks to increase the danger as there had been at Ichabod's Island, and eventually he guided the launch to safety under the lea of the wooded shore of the mainland.
The first intention of Garnet was to make a landing in order to await the coming of night, when, as he knew from past experiences, the wind would almost certainly fall, after which the voyage could be resumed without danger and in comparative comfort. The Doctor found, however, that his plan was impossible of execution. To his discomfiture, he perceived that the heavily wooded shore was nothing other than a vast swamp, without anywhere a dry spot on which to step foot. Upon making this discovery, he allowed the boat to drift a short distance away from the land, and then dropped overboard the tiny anchor.
After the launch was made secure, the Doctor took from his pocket the hypodermic syringe. The vial accompanying it, however, was empty. Garnet searched feverishly through his medicine case, at first in despair, for he feared that he had no more of the drug. But at last he uttered an ejaculation of triumph as he drew forth a small bottle of the narcotic. He removed the cork and dropped the pellets into the palm of his hand. He counted them rapidly, before replacing all but one in the bottle. The quantity of the drug was so small as to fill him with the worst apprehensions. A man held as was Garnet in the clutch of an evil habit would be placed in a horrible position, were he to run out of his morphia supply, while thus storm-bound along the desolate shores of Core Sound. He shuddered at the dreadful thought of such catastrophe. Then he tried to forget the haunting fear, the while he made his preparations for loading the syringe. Though his fastidiousness was revolted, he had no choice but to use the brackish water from over the side to dissolve the pellet for the shot. When, finally, the task was completed and the syringe duly charged, he did not again bare the girl's arm for an injection. Now that his stock was running low, perhaps his selfishness forbade any bestowal of the drug on another; or, perhaps, his trained eye told him that the further stupefying of her would react dangerously. So, the liquid in its entirety was forced into his own arm through the needle's puncture. It was only a matter of a few minutes before the efficacy of the drug was made manifest. The nervousness that had marked the physician's manner fell away from him. His countenance wore a serene aspect. Presently he settled himself comfortably on an upholstered seat and then without more ado fell sound asleep.
Garnet did not awaken until the shades of night were fast settling over the waters. In all probability, he would have slumbered on much longer, had it not been for his acutely sensitive hearing, which caught the sound of a tiny voice. It was hardly more than a whisper that issued from out the blankets in the bow. It was the voice of Ethel Marion calling him. This was the first time she had spoken since the moment of semi-consciousness upon the Island when she had been revived by the ministrations of Captain Ichabod. Now she spoke once, and again, the single word:
"Doctor!"
Garnet sprang up and hurried to her side.
"Yes, Miss Marion," he exclaimed soothingly as he came to her.
As he knelt by her side, she bade him welcome with a smile in which pleasure and confidence were blended. Indeed, the girl felt that she was quite safe from any possibility of harm while in the company of the trusted family physician. But she realized that she was very weak, and, too, her mind was by no means clear. She was unaware that she was in fact hundreds of miles distant from home and friends. She rested in a reclining position so that the gunwales of the launch were high enough to shut off a vision of the shore. Otherwise, the luxuriant swamp growth must have shown her that she was far south of New York Harbor. Ethel was familiar with the Sound Country from having traversed it in voyaging to and from Florida points. Could she now have seen, she would have recognized the giant gum trees and cypress, garnished with festoons of Spanish moss that swayed gently under the impact of the lessening breeze.
"Oh, Doctor!" she queried. "Have I been ill? I feel so strange in my head, and I am so weak, and, oh, so hungry!"
"Yes, Miss Marion," replied Garnet in his most suave manner, "you have been ill, but are now very much improved. If you will just lie quiet and try to sleep a little more, I will soon have you where you can have plenty of good things to eat, and your strength will return as rapidly as it left you. I'm not going to tell you more at this time. I shall wait until you've had some nourishment and are strong enough to listen to a long story."
Ethel forbore further questioning. She simply smiled again and resumed her sleep. Garnet drew out the hypodermic syringe, then hesitated. He remembered how limited was his stock of morphia. After a moment more of doubt, he shook his head decidedly and restored the syringe to his pocket. It was only too apparent to him that he must husband his supply with miserly care if he would not suffer the tortures of the damned.
Garnet slipped quietly back to his place by the engine. The sky was now quite clear again, and as the darkness deepened the wind continued to fall, until there was almost perfect calm. It was safe enough now for the little boat to proceed on her way. The Doctor raised the anchor and started the engine. He steered out from the shore resolutely, without any sign of wavering, heading toward the northward. But for what port he sailed was the secret of his own drug-crazed brain alone. Was it his intention to hide away for a time in some sparsely settled section of the Sound country, where he could depend upon getting supplies from the kind-hearted, simple-living coast dwellers? Or did he mean to go back over the way he had come in this frail craft? To do this, could have but one ending—the final disaster.
The heavy darkness of the early night hours was soon dispelled. Far to the eastward, the golden moon at the full came creeping up from behind a huge sand dune upon Core Banks. Its gentle luminousness fell over the expanse of water and showed the launch clearly as it voyaged toward the unknown.... And that same radiance shone upon a lover seeking wildly for the girl of his heart—and seeking in vain.
This night was not different from other nights along the western shores and estuaries of the Sound Country. For that matter, the people of the Hunting Quarter and Cedar Island section are not very greatly changed in their manners and customs from those of their forebears of many generations ago. Grouped in small settlements of just a few houses each, they live there to-day after the fashion of those same forebears in almost every detail. The houses are the same or at least they are carefully patterned after those built by the first settlers so many generations ago.
There is no doubt concerning the ancestry of these folk. A little conversation with the natives is enough to make one realize that he is listening here to a speech redolent of the days of Chaucer, a speech richly flavored with the colloquialisms of the Elizabethan era. Some of the familiar folk-lore tales might well have emanated from the poet himself, both for their language and their spirit.
And these descendants of an early English stock have preserved not only the ancient speech, but they have maintained the generous courtesy of a former time, when Sir Walter Raleigh spread his mantle in the mire in order that his queen might pass dry shod. And real courtesy includes always an unhesitating and ungrudging hospitality. The dwellers in this isolated region are surpassed by none in their warm welcome of any wayfarer who may come to them.
They have no highway or railroad connection with the outside world. The only means is voyaging by small boats, a method necessarily slow at the best, and often quite impossible. It is claimed that good roads and the railways are essential factors in the education of any community, and the claim is, doubtless, just. But it would be well, perhaps, if some of those who boast of their education were to be cast among these illiterates, there to gain a new appreciation of their own language, shorn of its modern barbarities and the atrocities of slang. It is a curious fact that many of these persons who can neither read nor write, nevertheless, possess a vocabulary beyond that of many a grammar-school graduate. Schools have been few and far between in this lonely place. Yet the very isolation has tended to preserve the purity of the local speech.
To-night the inhabitants of the settlement are resting upon their tiny porches, for the air is over-warm and only the slightest bit of breeze is stirring. What little there is of it comes from the forest hard by, and brings with it a plague of numberless mosquitoes. Because of them a huge smudge is kept going close beside every house. But for this defense the insects' victims would be forced to take refuge within doors, with every window and door fast shut. But, after all, they are accustomed to this affliction whenever the wind blows off the land. They seem to suffer little, if at all, from the volume of smoke that would strangle the unaccustomed. It would seem indeed that they would require no masks against the poisonous gases loosed against them by a warrior foe. The most patient sufferers from the pests are those young ladies who are entertaining their lovers. Those of their age go barefooted late this season. The smoke does not lie close to the floor. So they are kept busy slapping at ankles and toes while they listen as best they can to the words of love uttered by their suitors.
But to-night most of the men are fishing. The season for the gray trout or weak fish has arrived. Of late years a new method for successfully catching them has crept in from the Beaufort section, whither it was brought by some unknown foreigner. After its first coming, it was quickly taken up by all the dwellers along the Sound. The method of it is to suspend a fire of lightwood knots, which is built within a hollow, gratelike iron frame over the water. The fire throws a strong light into the depths, which attracts the fish in swarms. As they come close to the surface, toward the fire of pine knots, the fisherman deftly slips beneath them a net shaped like those used for crabbing. By a quick upward movement, the wriggling fish are drawn safely to skiff or shore as the case may be.
Such a method of fishing will not appeal to a disciple of Izaak Walton, but one must remember that these primitive folk are not fishing for the sport that is to be found in the pursuit. It is their way of earning a livelihood. It is a matter of necessity, not of choice, with them.
Doctor Garnet realized that it would not be well for Ethel to remain exposed to the chill dampness of the night. He was also aware that she had taken no nourishment throughout the day, and was, therefore, in a peculiarly susceptible condition. So he steered the launch close in to shore, seeking eagerly for the lights of some friendly hamlet. But to-night there was a landward breeze, so that all lights were extinguished to avoid attracting the mosquitoes. There were only the smudges burning, and these rarely showed any blaze underneath the drifting clouds of smoke. It was the custom to stifle at once any flare of the fire, in order to maintain the smoke at the densest.
It was the fishermen's lights between Hunting Quarter and Cedar Island that gave the Doctor his first glimpse of life anywhere in the vicinity. Many boats had passed him going up and down the water way, but this strange man had studiously avoided hailing them, or being hailed by them. He was not willing to run the risk of being reported by any craft so encountered.
Then, presently, he observed twenty-five or thirty of the lights burning upon the water within a radius of a half mile. Some of them appeared to be directly on the water's edge, while others were scattered over the surface of the Sound. He wondered greatly at the weird sight, but his drug-crazed nerves left him no courage to investigate the phenomenon. But, of a sudden, the blanket-wrapped form in the bow stirred. There came the gentle noise of a healthy yawn, and then the girl's voice called:
"Doctor Garnet! Won't you please take me home—wherever that is—or some place where there is food? I'm just as hungry I can be!"
"Yes, Miss Marion," the physician answered glibly. "We'll soon be where there is both food and shelter. I'm so glad to find you improved! My patient will soon be herself again."
"Yes," the girl agreed, "I am improved, Doctor. I feel quite myself again, and I'm wondering where I am and what has happened. I must have been unconscious for some time," she added thoughtfully, "for the ankle I sprained while boardingThe Isabelis almost well. Do you know, there is very little I remember after that? I recall the awakening in the morning and the finding that the yacht was at sea and then your coming to my assistance when I discovered that I was locked in my room. Please, Doctor, won't you explain this whole affair to me? Were we kidnapped by river thieves, and did you succeed in escaping with me? Somehow, I have an impression that we're a long way from New York Harbor." Even in the faint light from the moon, Ethel could see that the physician was perturbed by her questioning. The fact startled her, aroused a vague suspicion. She spoke now with an authoritative quality in her voice.
"Doctor, what is the meaning of this reticence? Why do you show such emotion? Has something dreadful happened? Surely, an explanation is my due."
Garnet perceived that he had at last a sane, sensible woman with whom to deal. He knew that it would be necessary for him to treat her as such, to give her a satisfactory and rational explanation. But he had the cunning of that partial madness induced by the drug. He meant to have that cunning stimulated to even a greater degree. For even while the girl was speaking, he contrived to arrange another charge for the hypodermic. To avoid attracting her attention, he did not even roll up his sleeve to insert the point into his flesh. Instead, he inserted it through coat and shirt. In an emergency such as this, he had no need for the aseptic niceties characteristic of his profession. He had no thought of bacteria from the cloth to infect the wound. His sole concern was to feel within him the increased thrill of the morphia. His nerves must be at their best to combat the inquisitiveness of this intelligent young woman, now in the possession of her normal mind. He understood perfectly that his narrative of events must contain such a skillful mingling of truth and falsehood as to leave her without any doubt whatsoever concerning his own integrity. Otherwise, there must come disgrace for himself, the ruin of his career. He spoke then suavely, genially even.
"Right you are, Miss Ethel. You were kidnapped—taken miles and miles from your home. I trust you are strong enough now to hear the story—properly censored—that I have to tell you. I think, though, it will be sufficient, for the time being, to inform you that you are now absolutely safe. I regret to advise you thatThe Isabelis no more. She was driven on the rocks, and is a total wreck. Yet, perhaps, it is better so. Your kidnapper was trying to run out into the open sea when the tempest was such that no yacht of such tonnage could have endured the fury of the waves. So the wreck probably saved your life, for you were rescued unharmed with the exception of a mild concussion of the brain, which left you unconscious for some time. And you may be glad now, since you have aroused from the stupor, that you have no memory of the many harrowing scenes connected with this affair. I also was rescued, and am doing my utmost to return you to your friends safe and sound. To-night, we're going northward on the waters of Core Sound, off the North Carolina mainland. The great sand dunes of Core Banks, which you have admired so many times in passing through these waters while cruising with your father, are just visible off the starboard bow in the moonlight. Off the port bow are many tiny lights, which I confess are a mystery to me. I have a suspicion, however, that they are shown by fishermen craft. I think it best to head for them in the hope that we may obtain shelter and food. And now, my dear patient," the Doctor concluded briskly, "please let this statement be sufficient for the time being. Then, by-and-by, I will tell you in full the most wonderful story of adventure that any little New York girl has ever experienced."
"Thank you, so much!" Ethel responded gratefully. "Now that I've had this much of the story from you, I'll promise to be as patient as possible. Just the same, I'm awfully anxious to hear it all in its completeness. I love adventure, and I am afraid I can't exactly be sorry that I've lived through one myself. I'm more sorry for poor father down there on that desolate border, for I know how he is looking forward to another cruise in the poorIsabel. I must wire him promptly, so that he'll be able to have the yacht duplicated without delay."
The physician was immensely elated that his narrative was so well received by the girl. With a new feeling of safety and contentment he headed the launch toward the light that seemed nearest the shore. It was not long until they reached the roughly constructed pier. Upon the extreme end of it sat a solitary man fishing with fire and net.
As they approached the shore, Garnet was able to make out the shadowy outlines that bulked in the distance as a half-dozen small houses. Beside each a smudge sent forth clouds of heavy smoke. He was heartened by the scene, for he knew well the hospitality of the southern home, and he was confident that within the walls of one of these humble cottages would be found food and rest for himself and the girl in his charge. Yet even in this moment, the physician wondered if indeed there would ever be real rest for him while he should remember the staring, accusing eyes that looked up at him from the water's depth.
Garnet brought the tender alongside the wharf in shore, at a sufficient distance from the man to avoid disturbing the fishing. Then he climbed out upon the frail, wooden structure built upon poles driven into the bottom, and made his way over its swaying surface to the native by the fire. This proved to be "Squire" Goodwin, the big man of the settlement. He was of an appearance above the average, and handsome still in spite of fifty-odd years of toil and exposure. He rose at Garnet's approach, and, without waiting to be addressed, spoke with an air of genial familiarity.
"I don't usually go a-firin' for trout this late o' night, but the truth is that between the hell-fired skeeters and the gals havin' beaux there wasn't much for me to enjoy at home. My name's Goodwin," he added by way of introduction. "They call me Squire all around these parts. I'm the justice o' the peace. So be you're after a warrant?"
The last word affected Garnet very unpleasantly, and he shook his head with such grim emphasis that the Squire perceived he had been mistaken as to the stranger's purpose.
"No?" he remarked. "Well, then, maybe it's fair for me to make another guess." A twinkle shone now in his clear eyes. "Judging from the face that the moon just lighted up there in the bow of your snapper, I don't believe I'd be far wrong in judging ye two to be worldly folks that think a squire's good as a parson. What mout you're name be, stranger?"
At this blunt demand, Garnet again showed traces of embarrassment, but these endured only for an instant. He realized that in this place so remote from the ordinary lanes of travel there could be little danger in divulging his identity. So he spoke with brisk confidence.
"My name, sir, is Gifford Garnet, I am a physician. The young lady lying in the launch yonder is my patient. We were so unfortunate as to be wrecked while on a yacht cruising in the waters to the south of here. We are now on our way northward, bound for one of the larger towns, where we shall be able to get transportation home. The young lady is suffering from an injured ankle, and, too, she has been for some time unconscious from a blow on the head received while we were escaping from the yacht. It is only within the last hour that she has seemed to be again quite normal. We were obliged to lay to in the lower section of the Sound for several hours, waiting for the weather to moderate. Otherwise we would not have been obliged to put in here and beg you for food and lodging. If you can take care of us over night I shall be only too glad to pay you for your hospitality."
"Pay me for my hospitality!" the Squire exclaimed indignantly. "That's something in my locality that's never been for sale, and can't be bought. You-all must be from the North. I've heard folks from the outside say that folks up there pay for everything, even for a place to hang their hats in public houses. Folks that pay for everything they get lose all love for each other." His tone changed abruptly, and he spoke authoritatively. "Get that young woman out o' the boat and after I make another dip, I'll take ye up and show ye one shack where hospitality ain't for sale. And when you go please remember that you don't leave under any obligation to Squire Goodwin. I will say though, if ye ever catch me in you-all's fix, and ye he'p me out, then I won't offer to pay you for your hospitality. I just don't believe in it!"
The Squire skipped back to his firelight, and the Doctor watched him toss four flopping, wriggling beauties upon the wharf. As the fish fell from the net, the Squire shouted triumphantly:
"Say, Doctor, there's a mornin' meal you-all can't pay for!"
The task of getting Ethel Marion from the boat to the shore was not as difficult as Garnet had anticipated. She was buoyed up wonderfully by the thought that comfortable quarters awaited her and good clean food to satisfy an appetite that was fast becoming ravenous. Had it not been for the injured ankle, she could have walked as rapidly as either of the men from the landing stage to the house. But when she rested her full weight on it, she found that it was still painful, so that it was necessary for the Doctor to support her on one side while the Squire gallantly gave his aid on the other.
As they reached the porch, there was a stealthy sound of scurrying and the pattering of bare feet, as the young-men callers slipped away in the darkness to their homes. Then the two young women hastened forward to greet the strangers in true Core Sound style. "Ma" was in bed, they explained, but they themselves, with easy, unaffected kindness proceeded to make the invalid at home. Then one of them hurried into the cook-room to prepare a quick meal.
Ethel Marion, a girl of high society in New York City, and reared in luxury, had hitherto known little of humble homes such as this in which now she was being cared for so generously. As she glanced about her, she saw that the walls were not covered with a paper especially prepared for the purpose, in the manner to which she had been accustomed. Instead, they carried sheets of ordinary newspapers, most of them of a religious character. It was a quaint and indisputable witness to the fact that here she was in the home of a God-loving, Christian family. All of the furnishings were simple; most of them of great age. Among them were antiques to warm a collector's heart. It was plain that these had been handed down through many generations. Those of later origin were carefully wrought duplicates of the choicest models. In her astonishment amid surroundings so strange and yet so pleasant, with the savor of cooking food in her nostrils, Ethel for the moment almost forgot the mystery and the peril through which she had passed—almost forgot, for a fleeting instant, the lover she had summoned to her aid by a message cast into the sea.
The dwellers of the Sound Country are early risers. For this reason, Ethel Marion was up and dressed next morning earlier than ever before in her life. The dawn was just breaking when breakfast was announced. One of the buxom girls came to offer her services in dressing the invalid stranger. Then she was assisted to the porch for a breath of the early morning air, and she exclaimed in delight over the splendid view there unfolded. Far off to the eastward the sun was just climbing up from behind a sand dune on the Banks. For miles up and down the coast the broken sand hills ran in a line north and south, trending the horizon. These showed free from any vegetation except the scrub growth at their base and the sand of them shone under the rays of the rising sun like molten silver. In the foreground were the blue waters of the Sound now dimpling under the caressing touches of a gentle breeze. Here and there showed high lights from the whitecaps that stood out as souvenirs still of the storm that had passed. Off to the right of the small bay upon which the house was built, a tangled mass of evergreen shrubs offered a vivid note in the color scheme. These were the undergrowth of the huge forest trees, of which the limbs were almost hidden by the clinging wreaths of mistletoe.
The esthetic sense of Ethel was touched to the deeps by this vista of beauty round-about. No wonder that the dwellers in this blessed region lived contented in youth, maturity, and old age. She wondered, rather, that anyone could be cross or ill tempered or evil in any way within the environment of a nature so benign.
She was reluctant when Miss Goodwin gently led her away from the panorama of beauty toward the more sordid pleasure of the breakfast table. As she went, Ethel offered a silent and most devout prayer of gratitude for her preservation and for the kindness she had received from Doctor Garnet and these strangers, whom just now she was very near to loving.
Had it not been for the wish to appease the anxiety of friends at home, Ethel would have been content to remain long in this wonder spot, among a people so simple, so different from those to whom she had been accustomed, who were so little acquainted with the manners and the fashions of a so-called higher society. But, breakfast over, she was the first to suggest that it were best to leave this remote settlement, with all its charms of scenery and the compelling attractiveness of its homely goodness. The nerve-racked Garnet also was anxious to depart. He had rested comparatively well after the excitement and strain of the previous day, and now to an eye not too critical he would have seemed quite normal. Yet, a certain wildness in the expression of his eyes had not wholly disappeared. Now that Ethel was herself again, she perceived that there was something radically wrong with the man. Naturally enough, she attributed this condition on his part to the worry over her welfare, and she even experienced a feeling almost like remorse that she should thus unwittingly have been the cause of suffering on his part.
The Goodwins urged them to remain for a longer rest, but they abandoned their hospitable efforts when Ethel pointed out the necessity of at once relieving the anxiety of her friends concerning her safety. They provided, however, an ample amount of food to be carried by the voyagers, which would suffice them until they reached a town on the coast to the northward, and the entire family went down to the wharf to wish them God-speed.
As the party approached the landing, the attention of all was called to Shrimp, who hitherto had been neglected. He came walking proudly along the beach toward them from the pier. When the physician explained that the rooster was a pet, the Squire hurried back to the house and returned quickly with a small package of corn. A moment later, the launch was again in motion, while those on shore waved their adieux with handkerchiefs, to which Ethel replied in kind.
Ethel was eager in her praise for every member of the family that had shown them such kindness and hospitality.
"Oh, Doctor," she exclaimed, "just as soon as the new yacht is built, the very first cruise shall be a visit to this beautiful spot. Father must know these plain people who have been such life-savers to us. You, too, Doctor Garnet, shall be one of the party. We'll see if we can't devise some scheme by which to repay them for what they've done."
The physician made no reply. He seemed indeed to be wholly absorbed in meditation. But he aroused with a start from his reverie at the girl's next question.
"Doctor, you know a woman's inquisitiveness! Last night you bade me be patient, and said that after a while you would tell me the whole story of this unfortunate affair. Now, I simply must ask you just one question. Will you answer it?"
"I'll try, Miss Marion," was the answer, given with an air as nonchalant as he could assume.
"Where are the villains who took part in this affair? Did they go down withThe Isabel, or did they escape, and are they still at large?"
Garnet looked the girl straight in the eye as he replied in a tone of the utmost sincerity.
"The arch-conspirator escaped. He is probably being hunted by the best detectives in the country. He is sure to be captured eventually, dead or alive."
"Thank you, Doctor," Ethel said gratefully. "And in proof of my thanks, I won't trouble you any more on this subject, which seems to worry and annoy you. Of course, I don't know what dreadful things you were obliged to go through with in order to save yourself and me from harm. Really, I'm not surprised that you don't wish to talk about it. But I do hope they catch the guilty man and punish him as he deserves—hang him, perhaps."
The physician winced at the innocent remark, and vouchsafed no reply.
The launch sped on and on. The wind increased in some degree during mid-forenoon, as is usual in southern waters at this season of the year. But the little craft was staunchly built, and by taking advantage of the headlands she made fairly good progress.
Garnet was beginning to suffer again from lack of the drug. Ethel had not as yet seen him use the hypodermic needle, nor did he care to have her. But by rapid stages his desire reached such a point that he must either have the relief of morphia or go mad. Then his cunning brain suggested that it would be easy enough to deceive this guileless girl. So he boldly told her that he was in a highly nervous state and suffering as well from a splitting headache, and that, therefore, he deemed it advisable to take a small injection of morphia, which would undoubtedly relieve him.
Ethel had not the faintest idea that this learned man, of such eminence in his profession, was, in fact, a drug fiend. She had no suspicion of the truth even when she saw the point of the hypodermic syringe penetrate the skin of his forearm. She merely admired the graceful, deft movements of the long and slender fingers.
Nevertheless, the girl could hardly fail to note the change that came almost immediately over the man. Now he became again his usual self, with little, if any, trace of nervousness, with the manner that was affable and sympathetic.
It was a half hour later when Ethel, ever alert, noticed a fisherman's boat laboring clumsily down the Sound. In years agone, it had been equipped with a sail, but now it chugged away industriously under the energy of a wheezing gasoline engine. There were several persons aboard—three men, two women and a baby in arms. During her first glance at the ungainly-looking boat, the beat of the engine ceased, and it was evident from the actions of the man who busied himself with the machinery that the motor had balked. As the launch drew nearer, the girl saw that those in the broken-down craft were in a state of consternation, with their attention centered on the child. She cried out in wonder to the Doctor.
"What in the world can be the matter in that boat? It must have something to do with the baby."
Garnet answered without hesitation.
"Yes, Miss Ethel, I've been watching, and there is certainly something seriously wrong. I'll go close enough to hail them."
The men in the fishing boat began to wave their hats as distress signals, and the Doctor nodded and raised his hand as a signal that he was coming.
When the launch came within hailing distance, one of the men shouted out an explanation. The propeller had become entangled in a piece of floating net, and so rendered useless. The party came from the Tournequin Bay section, where an epidemic of diphtheria was raging. This baby had not improved under the "granny" treatment of the neighborhood, in which there were no doctors. In consequence, it was now being taken to Beaufort to receive the antitoxin—that new remedy for which such miracles were claimed. Even as the man was speaking, the baby was seized with a fit of strangling that brought it almost to the point of death.
Came a transformation scene. Here was no longer Garnet, the crazed drug fiend. In his stead was revealed the man and the physician—he who in times of distress and suffering had always given his services to the best of his ability. In this moment the old instinct rose dominant. He called to them in a loud clear voice.
"I am a physician. If you will permit me I'll come aboard and try to give temporary relief. Something must be done promptly, or the child will die."
In order to save Ethel as far as possible from any danger of contagion, Garnet brought the launch alongside the stern of the fishing boat, since the baby was in the bow. As he stepped aboard the other craft he bade one of the men let the launch drop back astern to full length of the painter. While this was being done, the physician, medicine case in hand, hurried to the child that lay struggling spasmodically in its mother's arms. An instant of examination showed to Garnet's practiced eyes that the throat was almost completely filled with the membrane characteristic of the disease, and that it must be only a matter of minutes before suffocation would ensue unless effective measures for relief were taken. A glance to the shore two miles away told him that the delay in reaching it would prove fatal to his patient's chances. It was evident that if the baby's life were to be saved he must act—and act now. Nor did he hesitate. With lightning-like rapidity he took out his emergency kit of surgeons' tools. He bade the most intelligent-appearing of the men hold the child according to his precise directions. Then, with his coat off and shirt sleeves rolled up, Doctor Garnet braced himself in the tossing boat and performed the operation of tracheotomy, while the mother crouched weeping and praying with her face hidden in her hands.
Presently, the sufferer grew quiet, for now it was able to breathe again. Thanks to the great skill of this man, once again a life had been saved.
The parents of the child were profuse in the expressions of heartfelt gratitude. They would have given what little money they had to this savior of their child. But Garnet, of course, would take no fee for his services. He diverted the chorus of thanks by offering to take in tow the disabled fishing boat and bring it to the shore, whence means could be secured for their going on to Beaufort. He insisted that in spite of what he had done, the baby should be taken to the town, in order to receive treatment with the antitoxin.
Throughout all the scene, Ethel had watched the physician with eyes in which shone pride and affection. It seemed to her that this man was one who fought always to relieve distress according to the best measure of his strength.
"He has succored me," she mused with a warm glow in her heart.
"He is taking me to my home—to Roy. He has stopped only long enough to rescue another sufferer from the jaws of death—even as he rescued me. He is a hero."
The afflicted child showed marked signs of improvement by the timeThe Isabel'stender, with its tow, reached the small hamlet of Atlantic—a cluster of fishermen's houses and two stores built on a bluff to the westerly side of Core Sound. There the disabled boat was pulled out upon the beach so that the stem was exposed and workmen could get at the injured shaft. The work of repair was simple. Soon the craft was restored to running condition, and its passengers went on their way, their hearts filled with new hopes for the safety of the child.
Ethel remained at the wharf, since the steep climb up the bluff must have proved too trying for her injured ankle. But the Doctor, acting under the girl's instructions, made his way up the hillside to the stores in order to purchase for her some necessary apparel to replace that lost in the wreck. There was occasion also to buy additional gasoline for the launch. With these things provided, the two again set forth on their voyaging.
The physician, though he appeared genial enough, was in fact greatly perturbed. He had tried in vain to secure morphia at either of the stores in Atlantic. He took advantage of his absence from Ethel to administer another injection, so that for the present the craving was stilled. But he was filled with dread for the future. While the launch moved forward steadily through the calm water, he secretly counted again the pellets remaining in the vial. Heartsick, he realized the truth. It was a matter only of a few hours before his stock of the drug would be entirely exhausted. In such a situation, knowing as he did the horrible suffering that must ensue to him for lack of morphia, Garnet did not hesitate. He had learned by inquiries that there was a physician at Portsmouth, on the south side of Ocracoke Inlet, at the extreme northerly end of Core Banks. He must direct the launch thither, there to seek relief from his fellow practitioner. There was even the possibility of whiskey to mitigate his torture, for as one of the natives had informed him in Atlantic, "No'th Caroliny wasn't plumb bone-dry."
For some time now, Ethel Marion had closely watched her companion. She could not but perceive how different was his manner from that of the man who, for years, had visited her father's house whenever medical aid was needed. Formerly he had been full of life and vigor; a man of most affable bearing, while now he was morose, almost diffident. Since her return to consciousness, she had not once seen a smile on his face. Instead, his expression was always abstracted and remote. Moreover, at times, the girl had seen him turn his face quickly to the south as if moved by some irresistible and baneful attraction. And, too, at such times he had shuddered visibly. Ethel felt convinced that there remained something very frightful in the story still to be told concerning the wreck of the yacht. As she watched the man, a vague fear developed in her—a fear of him, for him. She had as yet no suspicion that she had been in mortal peril through the act of this man. But she was more than half convinced that he could be no longer a safe protector, for the peculiarity of his appearance and manner soon convinced her that he was actually deranged. It was evident that he desired to be left to his own musings. So, for a long time, she refrained from any attempt toward conversation. She even feigned sleep, but through the long, brown lashes she continued to study the worn and harassed visage before her. And it was during this period of sly observation that she detected his deft resort to the hypodermic syringe. She witnessed as well the febrile anxiety with which he once more inspected the number of pellets. She noted with dismay the horror in his drawn features as he stared at the vial. Her ears even caught his whispered words:
"Only two!"
But before the startled and apprehensive girl could formulate a conclusion as to the significance of what she had seen and heard, there came an interruption.
In the spring great numbers of shad journey from the depths of the Atlantic to their spawning grounds far up in the head waters of the Neuse and Pamlico Rivers. The Sound fisherman is alert to know the time of their coming and stakes his gill nets all along the miles upon miles of shallows away from the buoy-marked channel of the Sound, in order that he may gain for himself the high prices paid in the northern markets for these delicacies of the sea. It is the rule that after the shad season the stakes to which the nets had been tied shall be removed. But sometimes carelessness, or worse, leaves the stakes in their places. In many instances these are broken off below the surface of the water by the buffeting of the waves. Thus invisible, they become a serious menace in the course of small boats. Sometimes in rough water, a boat falling from a wave has struck on one of these to have its bottom pierced, and forthwith to fill and sink.
It was one of these stakes that now caused catastrophe. The sloping stern scraped over it. Next instant, the brittle bronze propeller blades rasped against it. They were swept off as smoothly as icicles from a window ledge, and the homeward cruise of the frail little tender was at an end.
There came a scream from Ethel, which was echoed by a groan from the physician as his thoughts went in despair to the two pellets—only two! It was with the mechanical action of the experienced yachtsman that he threw the throttle of the engine as it raced free from the propeller's resistance.
"Oh, Doctor," the girl cried, "what is it now? What has happened to us—"
"Our propeller blades are stripped, Miss Marion," he answered, in a tone of deep dejection. "There is no injury to the hull, of course, or we would have taken in water already. There is no danger, but," he concluded with great bitterness, "it is very discouraging, I must admit."
"What shall we do, Doctor?—drift with the wind until we are picked up by some passing vessel?"
"I think not, Miss Ethel," Garnet replied. "Judging from the direction of the breeze, in less than an hour we shall come on the shore of Core Banks."
He spoke in a new voice of gentleness as he continued:
"Pray do not worry. I don't believe there is an acre of water that we will pass over where the depth would be above our arm-pits."
The thought of being stranded upon the barren Core Banks would have been serious enough to awaken dread in the heart of any woman, even in the company of a sane person. But Ethel Marion had her distress instantly increased by the fact that the man with her was of unsound mind. She had a general idea of how far they would be distant from any human habitation. This very strip of sand had been pointed out to her many times by the local pilot aboard her father's yacht. Now, there came crashing into her tortured brain memories of tales told by that same pilot; concerning treasure secreted there years agone by the pirate Black Beard; concerning the weird lights that rose from the sands at night, then mysteriously vanished; concerning the evil beach-combers who burned here their flares to trick the skippers of ships out at sea and deliver them to death upon these sands, where the bones of the vessels might be picked at ease; concerning the utter isolation of this region, where no human beings were to be found short of Portsmouth at one end and Cape Lookout at the other—fifty miles apart.
The launch drifted slowly, but none the less surely, toward the strip of sterile bleakness broken only by the huddled masses of the dunes. As she saw them that morning from the porch of Squire Goodwin's home, Ethel had thought them a splendid and inspiring spectacle. Now, under the changed circumstances, their nearer aspect terrified her. She felt a desperate wonder as to what fate might hold in store.
By a mighty effort of will, the girl forced back the fear that threatened to overcome her. She addressed Garnet in a voice that trembled only slightly.
"Would it not be better to drop the anchor, and remain out here where we could surely be seen by passing boats?"
The Doctor shook his head in negation as he answered:
"No, Miss Ethel. It would be of no use, for we are too far from the traveled route. Besides, you have been so long cramped up aboard this little boat that it's imperative that you should stretch yourself ashore. As far as the fishermen are concerned, we can make signals to them on shore as well as from here, better in fact."
He pointed suddenly.
"I can make out a rough fisherman's shack over younder between the dunes. There's no chance of its being occupied at this season, but the shelter afforded by it will mean everything to you."
Ethel looked in the direction indicated.
"Oh, yes, Doctor, I see it. I suppose it would help in an emergency, but I do hope we shall not be compelled to pass a night in this desolate place."
The physician's voice was surcharged with gloom—perhaps from pity for himself rather than for her—as he replied.
"It's already near sundown, so I'm greatly afraid we must pass at least a night in this wretched place. There is just one chance. Should the wind veer a little further to the southward, I could possibly use a pole and so push the boat up along the shore toward Portsmouth. But while the breeze remains in its present quarter, we have no choice but to stay here marooned. I only wish we had taken on more supplies at Atlantic. Should I be obliged to go on foot to Portsmouth in order to bring back a boat for you, a collection of canned goods would prove capital company for you during my absence."
Ethel regarded the physician with surprise, and a tremulous smile bent her lips, for this was his first and only attempt at humor throughout all the trip. But as she studied his face, with its lugubrious expression, she came to the conclusion that, after all, he had not in the least meant to be funny; had, on the contrary, spoken in all seriousness.
Presently, the waves bore the tender gently upon the shelving strip of sand. Ethel remained on board, while Garnet went to make an inspection of the hut.
Shrimp, too, hurriedly hopped from the tiny deck forward, and when he found himself safe ashore expressed his gratification by a lusty crow—his first during the voyage.
Garnet found the accommodations far better than he could have expected. The shack contained a small cook-stove, cooking utensils, clean bunks, some chairs and a table. He returned and aided Ethel to disembark. Then, still holding her hand, he led her toward the shack.
She went in a mood of dire foreboding toward this miserable shelter, under the escort of a man whom she now knew to be crazed.
As Captain Ichabod left the physician's house after having made his confession, Doctor Hudson stood watching him while he walked briskly away.
"See how that old devil is stepping it off down the street like a four-year-old," was the observer's comment. "He really has taken on a new lease of life, and materia medica didn't have a finger in the pie, either. If it had happened a few years earlier that he had a chance to tell Sandy Mason what he thought of him, and to save a woman from drowning, likely as not there'd have been a wife and children on the Island to-day to cheer the old fellow's declining years. It's a shame that cat of a woman ever crossed his path, for he's one of the best-meaning, greatest-hearted men in the county."
Suddenly, the Doctor chuckled.
"By George, I have an idea, and I'll get busy on it. Yes, sir, I'll take the old rascal at his word." With that, Doctor Hudson disappeared inside his house and shut the door after him.
The government wireless station at Beaufort is built upon an island, which is separated from the mainland by the narrow channel of New Port River just before it empties into the sea. Now, Captain Jones went at once to the government wharf, where he secured the services of a small boy to row him to the island. On his arrival, he was warmly welcomed, for he was as popular there as with the men of the coast guard. As he entered the small receiving-room, the instruments were spitting out dots and dashes, with all kinds of sparks for accompaniment. The principal operator was taking down a message. As soon as the task was ended, he whirled about and greeted the old fisherman enthusiastically.
"Why, howdy, Captain Ichabod—glad to see you. It's sure fine of you to come over. I understand there've been some exciting times up in your neck of the woods. By the way, what was the name of the yacht that went on the rock?"
"It wasThe Isabel, of New York," replied Ichabod.
"Is that so!" exclaimed the operator. "If that's the case, I reckon this message I just yanked out of the air will be of interest to you."
He handed the paper to the Captain, who, after finding his spectacles and adjusting them carefully, read aloud the following:
"To all port officers:"Motor-driven yachtIsabelof New York, put to sea without clearance papers. Investigation shows she was probably stolen. Daughter of owner a prisoner on board. If located in your vicinity arrest boat and all members of crew. Make diligent search for young woman and release her."
"To all port officers:
"Motor-driven yachtIsabelof New York, put to sea without clearance papers. Investigation shows she was probably stolen. Daughter of owner a prisoner on board. If located in your vicinity arrest boat and all members of crew. Make diligent search for young woman and release her."
The bulletin was signed by an officer of the Treasury Department.
"Well I'll be doggoned!" cried the Captain, in great astonishment. "I knowed that feller was some kind o' a bad egg, but now I believe to goodness he was plumb sp'ilt. That poor little brown-eyed gal! What a pity! I wish I'd a held right smack onto her—that I do."
"I suppose," the operator rejoined, "that bulletin has been picked up by all of the stations, so that the boys are keepin' a sharp lookout to overhaul the yacht and pinch the bunch, an' especially to save the girl. I'll get this over to the Collector of Customs right away. He'll want to report the escape of the man and woman and to give the direction they went."
"Ye'd better tell him to mention the dead feller, an' that he was tied down."
"That's right, Uncle Ichabod. Say, but there's a lot of mystery about this affair. I'll bet my boots you haven't heard the last of it."
"Maybe not," the fisherman admitted. "But, by cracky, since what I've been through a'ready they can't skeer Ichabod. No, not by a damned sight!"
It was very seldom that Captain Jones used a profane expression. When he did, it was with deliberate intention.
Upon this island where the wireless outfit is stationed, the government has another institution—a laboratory where studies are made in sea life. It includes a remarkable museum, which is visited by students from far and near. There are power boats equipped for dredging at considerable depth in order to bring to light the secret things of the sea. Many of the curios are contributed by the fishermen, who are continually dragging forth in their nets objects strange to them. When a thing of real rarity is brought to the laboratory, a snug sum is paid to the finder. The Captain himself had always a ready eye for anything that might prove of value, and his finds from time to time netted him a tidy profit. To-day he had with him a variety of sea porcupine new to him, which he had found in his net a few days before. So now, on leaving the wireless station, Ichabod visited the laboratory, where the sea porcupine was duly delivered and brought in return a satisfactory sum of money. Here, too, he retold once again all his experiences in connection with the wreck ofThe Isabel. By the time this was done, the afternoon was well spent. The old man was rowed back to the mainland, where he entered the red skiff and set sail homeward.
As he passed up the bay, the tide was low, so that in many places the shoals and rocks were exposed. Captain Ichabod, reclining lazily in the stern sheets of the skiff, tiller in hand, listened to the noisy clatter of the gulls, which in vast swarms were feeding on their favorite scallops.
Ages ago, the gulls discovered that the fluted shell must be broken ere the luscious morsel within could be obtained. It was wholly impossible for them to crush the stonelike casing with their bills. So the birds devised another means. This was to carry the shell high aloft, then drop it on the shoals. If it fell on a hard surface, it would be broken open, and the scallop within would be promptly devoured by the gull following. When the shell fell in a soft place, and remained unbroken the bird would merely continue its efforts until finally crowned with success. Ichabod, idly watching such repeated trials, was induced to meditation on the lesson thus taught.
"It shore is a pity that arter Roxana Lee"—the name came easily now—"arter a-stabbin' o' me in the back—yes, it's a pity that I didn't do sort o' like that Scotch feller that watched the spider try an' try an' try ag'in till at last he spun his web whar he aimed to. Why, when he saw what that-thar crab-lookin' son-of-a-gun could do, he jumped right up, an', a-bucklin' himself around a leetle tighter, went out and cleaned up a whole mess that was arter him. By cracky! all I had to do was to come right out to these sand shoals an' oyster rocks an' watch them noisy gulls a-tryin' an' a-tryin', an' at last bustin' a scallop. I jest believe, if I'd done that, then I'd have got right square up an' licked Sandy Mason, an' told Roxana what I thought o' her no-'countness, an' then I might have married the best-lookin' woman in Cartaret County.
"But, then, what's the use?" he continued, as he drew the sheet in a little closer, so holding the skiff more into the wind, in order to round a point of marsh land. "That's ancient history, an' I ain't a-goin' to study it. I've done turned over a new leaf. I hope, Ichabod, ye'll live right an' die happy."
The skiff was nearing the home port. Captain Ichabod's attention was called to a sound of happy voices—women's notes, as he expressed it. Unless he was much mistaken, it came from his own Island.
The old fisherman, true to his instinct of fear in reference to womankind, loosened the sheet, so that the skiff might slide by and let him learn more definitely what might be the meaning of this invasion.
The matter was not long in doubt. As he rounded a point, he saw them. It seemed to him there were a dozen or more of women. They were not only upon the Island: the shack door stood open. There were women actually going in and out through the entrance—busy as bees.... Upon the shore, a great fire was burning.
Ichabod, who had been brave for three days, now began to be afraid of this influx of feminine furbelows—this show of skirts. Twice Ichabod tacked with a desire to take a running look at his own Island; and twice he dared not make a landing because of the feminine contingent on shore. But, when he sailed the red skiff by his homeland for the third time, he recognized a pudgy figure on the shore, which was waving frantically toward him.
"Oh, hell!" Ichabod spoke, with great indignation. "If it ain't Hudson! Consarn him, he has took me at my word an' if he hain't brought a flock o' 'em! I didn't aim to run away, nohow. I jest forgot fer a minute thet I had reformed. I wonder what the fire means? It's mighty early yet for an oyster roast, but they are a-gittin' fat."
The Doctor met the old fellow at the landing. Ichabod wore a sheepish look, while, on the contrary, the physician's good-natured face was wreathed in smiles.
"Throw me your painter, Captain!" shouted the medical man. "When I get that in hand I'll feel sure that you are really here!"
Old Icky went forward, wound the sail neatly around the mast, removed the rudder, pulled up the center-board, and then tossed to Hudson a line to be turned around the piling. Ichabod stepped ashore, nonplused. His expression was stern and forbidding as he advanced on his friend, the Doctor, and demanded the meaning of all this.
"Why, Captain Ichabod," came the answer, "the women folks up there have named this meeting Ichabod Jones' coming-out party. You know in great cities where there's a heap of society, when a girl reaches an age that they think it is time for her to be setting her cap, they arrange a swell party to let the fellows know that the young lady is eligible. So, you see, that's the case to-day. Only, this time, it's a man that has come out of his shell, and you can believe me that shell was the hardest one I ever tried to crack!"
"Say, Hudson, did I tell ye I was a-lookin' fer a woman? No, sir; I only said as how they was welcome to come to the Island. This how-dy-do o' your'n I call a-rubbin' it in pretty hard. If it's a joke with you, it hain't with me."
"Now, old friend, don't get peeved. I'll tell you just how it came about. After you left my house, I went out to pay some professional calls. Ichabod, your name's in everybody's mouth. They all asked questions about you, knowing how close friends we are. What could I do but just up and tell how you had seen the light and had hit the trail for happiness; how all women were to be welcome at the Island from now on, and how the latch-string would be hanging always on the outside of the shack door? I had no sooner arrived home than one of these good ladies called me up and asked me if I would mind escorting a few of them to the Island to congratulate you on your quitting playing Rip Van Winkle as far as women were concerned. I just told the pretty creatures I'd be only too glad to go with them.... Shake hands, Ichabod. Let your family physician be the first to welcome you back."
Realizing that the whole trouble had been caused by his talking too much and that no one was to blame save himself, the old man smiled somewhat wryly as he grasped his friend's extended hand.
"Say, Doc," he declared, "I always did like a joke where it didn't hurt none. So, I ain't a-goin' to make ye out untruthful to that passal o' women."
With that, the fisherman slipped his arm within the Doctor's, and walked forward spiritedly toward his doom—as he mentally termed this social ordeal. It was indeed his coming-out party, and never a debutante so secretly tremulous and shy as Captain Icky.
The friendly squeeze that Doctor Hudson was giving Ichabod's arm as they advanced toward the group of women heartened the old man mightily. A few days since, he would have felt that he was being led as a martyr to be burned at the stake. But now, in the twinkling of an eye, everything was changed. It is true that he felt a keen embarrassment over this introduction to feminine society after his isolation from it for twenty years. Yet his natural courage dominated this embarrassment, so that he faced the trial bravely enough.
The Doctor explained to him that a formal introduction to the ladies would be necessary.
"That is," Hudson continued, "to all except one. You are already acquainted with the one just now coming out of the shack door with your vinegar bottle in her hand. It's Miss Sarah Porter that I'm referring to. She has told me that you have talked with her on more than one occasion about your domestic troubles and your lonely life. She has told me, too, that she tried her best to give you advice that would be good for you."
Ichabod replied defensively.
"Wall, I cal'late I've been a-tryin' to take her advice!"
It was even as Doctor Hudson had said. In spite of the sharp eyes and wagging tongues of the townsfolk, few had known that the old fisherman occasionally visited Miss Porter in the hostelry managed by her for many years, and that there he had listened gratefully to her words of kindly admonition. As a matter of fact, long before the Lee woman entered into the fisherman's life, he had felt very kindly toward Miss Porter, and his attentions had been well received by her. It is very possible that he might have offered himself to her years ago, had it not been for a conscientious scruple as to his jilted self being unworthy. So, he saw her only at rare intervals, and then only when he brought fish to sell, thus making business his excuse. There had been to him a certain comfort in the fact that this vivacious woman of sixty had never married. He even dared to wonder sometimes with a thrill of vanity if her feeling toward him could have been the cause of her spinsterhood. And this was always followed by an emotion of disgust with himself that he should ever have found the company of Roxana more to his liking than that of the pleasant and wholesome Sarah.
When the Captain saw Miss Porter with the vinegar bottle in her hand, he knew that the visitors were preparing an oyster roast, which, of course, accounted for the fire of twigs and seaweed. Now, the other women stood in a row, while Sarah, her face wreathed in smiles, came forward to greet her old lover. This done, she formally presented Ichabod to the other guests. The fisherman's increased embarrassment expressed itself in a sheepish grin, when it suddenly dawned on him that every one of the women there before him was unmarried. Dr. Hudson remarked afterward that Ichabod looked to him as if he were convinced that each and every one was "after him!"
Nevertheless, once the introductions were over, the Captain found himself at ease in a manner quite surprising. Every one of the visitors seemed to enter into the spirit of the affair with a whole-hearted geniality that was infectious, and under this benignant influence the host was filled with an unaccustomed happiness. He at once began to assist in the roasting of the oysters, which the women had gathered from the rocks. He gave them carte blanche to help themselves to plates and forks and such other things as were needful from the shack.
None was so rude as to refer to Ichabod's reformation. But Sarah Porter, whenever she caught his eye, gave him a look that spoke as plainly as words:
"Ichabod Jones, at last I have found you a man, and I am proud of you!"
No doubt she congratulated herself, with justice, on the fact that her talks with him had had much to do with this change. She was the only one in the party of mature age; the others were comparatively young and sprightly maidens. This selection of guests was due to the fine Italian hand of the Doctor. Evidently, he was hard at work on a plan to make Ichabod Jones a provider, rather than trying to find him a place as housekeeper, in accordance with the fisherman's original request.
The hours passed delightfully for all—especially for the host whose pleasure was edged by the novelty of the situation in which he found himself. It was not until the moon showed in the east that the visitors made ready for departure. Just before the party embarked, the boldest of the maidens kissed the old man's weather-beaten cheek. There was a burst of laughter from the onlookers. Ichabod could feel himself blushing furiously, but that blush was invisible under the deep tan. Then the others thus saluted him, one by one—all save Sarah Porter.
She bestowed herself in the launch while the kissing was going on, and Ichabod, regarding her furtively with anxious eyes, read in her expression signs of strong disapproval, which disconcerted him hugely, and robbed him in great measure of his just due of enjoyment under the osculatory attack.
Then, it was all over! The old man stood waving his hat mechanically as the launch glided away. Ichabod watched with unseeing eyes. He was in a daze, thinking more in sorrow than in anger of "how fer he had let them minxes go with him—an' Sary a-lookin' on, too!" He shook his head despondently, as he reflected that the closing incident would have been more agreeable if "Sary hadn't been a-lookin' on."
Once more, Ichabod Jones burned midnight oil. In the early evening he brought his easy chair out in front, where he could see the glistening waters and watch the moon climb high. He smoked pipeful after pipeful of his strong tobacco. Again he made rings, and thought, and wondered. It was after ten before he arose and went into the shack, lighted his oil lamp, laid out his paper and pencil, and proceeded to add more to the record that he had started. No doubt, after his long reverie in the moonlight, he had come to the conclusion that the fact of his being kissed by ten young women and having one more making eyes at him in one day, the first of his reformation, was of moment enough to be recorded.
That night, as Ichabod finished his entry in the diary and leaned far back in his chair with chest expanded, his chin with its whift of beard thrown out at an angle of forty-five degrees, he reminded one of a cartoon of Uncle Sam when showing a self-satisfied air. The picture he portrayed at least conveyed the impression that he was monarch of all he surveyed and even dared once again to place his battle flag of conquest on the mainland of Cartaret County.
As he put away his writing materials and prepared to retire to his lonely bunk, he again talked aloud.
"It looks to me, by cracky, as if things was a-movin' jest a leetle too rapid fer a starter. It reminds me right smart o' a hoss race I saw at the fish and oyster fair, at New Bern, a spell back. The animal that I cal'lated would win, he jest started off like a steam engine, an' when he got half way around he was clean ahead o' the bunch. But by the time he reached the home-stretch, he was a swettin' like a mad bull an' puffin' like a grampus—an' every other hoss got in fust. Here I am now, kissed by ten o' the prettiest gals in Beaufort jest as the sun is a-settin' on my first day o' new manhood. I'm startin' too almighty fast. If I don't tame down I'll lose out on the home-stretch. I opine Sara didn't like the idea o' that kissin' business. I was particular to hold my face straight out where she could see it an' not let my lips tech nary one o' 'em. But I guess it would be safer to go down an' tell Sara how partic'lar I was, an' how I wanted to tell 'em to stop, but didn't dar'st not to be polite."
As Captain Ichabod lay in his bunk before falling asleep, he allowed his mind to dwell upon more serious things. He thought of the wireless message. What had become of the strange man, of the woman, and of his rooster, Shrimp? He wondered that there were no reports of their passing other boats. His heart was sore for that poor woman who had lain so long unconscious upon his bed. His interest in her was vital, for he had saved her life. What could the man mean by thus secretly hurrying away? Ichabod had asked himself this question many times. Now he knew beyond peradventure of doubt that the fellow was a criminal, a refugee from justice, with a young woman of gentle birth in his power.
Ichabod's conscience smote him. He was ashamed that he had not instituted a search immediately after the fellow's disappearance from the Island. He had had the right to call on the Sheriff of the county for aid. There had been plain theft. A pair of blankets had been stolen from him—as also his chanticleer.
The monetary loss from this robbery meant nothing to the fisherman, but it would have served as an excuse for arresting the man, and thus rescuing his girl victim.... Ichabod remembered the man chained to the engine in the sunken yacht. It was doubtless this murderer who now had the girl in his power. Should it suit his ends, would that desperate man hesitate to murder even the girl herself—the girl he had saved from drowning? Ichabod decided that he would fulfill a belated duty by going to town next day, there to swear out a warrant of arrest against the abductor of the girl, that thus the Sheriff should have reason to search the waters of the Sound in the hope of arresting the guilty man and rescuing his victim....
Despite the thrilling experiences of a day so unaccustomedly feminine, the sturdy old fisherman, when he was done with his meditations, slept soundly throughout the night. He was up at cock-crow—though there was no clarion call from Shrimp to awaken.
It was while he was busy over the preparation of a modest breakfast that there came the wailing cry of a yacht's siren. It sounded from the northward, evidently not far away from the Island. Captain Icky shut the drafts on the stove, pushed the coffee-pot back to a position where it would keep hot without boiling. Then he stepped outside the shack to watch the incoming vessel pass over the bar into the waters of the Inlet. He was impressed at first glance by the beautiful lines of the little vessel, which was evidently of light draft so she might cruise safely in shallow waters, while capable of weathering a storm-tossed sea.