The afflicted child showed marked signs of improvement by the time The Isabel's tender, 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.