  To Don’s statement that Terry had disappeared the captain gave an astonished shout and hastened to join the brothers. Don and Jim explained once more how they had been all over the point without seeing anything of the missing boy. The captain was equally certain that Terry had not come back into the station, and with this new problem confronting them the three friends left the lighthouse and made a thorough search of the point. But as Don and Jim had said there was no trace of the red-headed boy. They found the prints of the footsteps in the mud leading down to the other side of the rock, and Jim was sure that one of the prints at least was Terry’s, but that was the extent of their findings. They stood on the rock dock and looked out over the water. “This beats all,” the captain muttered, in perplexity. “We know that he went this far and then we don’t know nothing else. I’ve got too good an opinion of that boy’s common sense to think for a minute that he jumped overboard.” “Yes,” nodded Jim, seriously. “He wouldn’t have done that, unless there was a good reason for it. But apparently the lighthouse keeper went the same way as Terry did. I wonder what it all means? Someone in a boat must have been waiting for Terry and carried him off.” “I don’t see how that could be,” Don said. “No one even knew that we were coming.” “Probably not. But it does look as though the keeper was carried off to sea, and Terry must have wandered down here, too. Somebody may have hailed him and taken him off in a boat, though I don’t see why he went without telling us about it.” “Far as that goes,” observed the captain, “a good many things may have happened. If he doesn’t show up by morning we had better go back, get your sloop and beat up the coast looking for him. He may have lighted on the trail of that gang and is following it up alone.” They went back to the lighthouse then and waited anxiously for further developments. From time to time the boys went out and looked around the lighthouse in the hope of seeing something that would give them encouragement, but nothing happened. The telephone operator called back to say that the police and the ex-keeper were on their way out, and three-quarters of an hour later they heard them arrive in an automobile. The police captain and four men arrived with the relief keeper and the captain told the story. “Mighty funny,” commented the police chief, while the new keeper went up to inspect the light. “If anyone took him away by force they’ll find themselves in for a lot of trouble. My men will make another hunt and I’ll look over every inch of ground.” The police, with the aid of flashlights, examined the point, but found nothing new. As it was now growing very late the chief left one man at the station as a guard and the rest of them went back to town. The new keeper, a good-natured old man with quiet, refined manners, asked the captain and the boys to put up overnight at the lighthouse. Fearing that Terry might come back and miss them if they were gone they agreed readily enough, and the keeper was glad enough to have them stay. So they took blankets which the keeper furnished them and went to sleep on the floor, the captain, under protest, accepting the bed. The keeper expressed his desire to stay awake all night and watch the light. “Not that there is any use of doing it,” he explained, with his slow smile. “But I’ve surely missed this old light in the last ten years. Seems good to be back on the job, though I don’t care for the thing that brought me back. But more’n likely Timothy will turn up again, and then I’ll have to go back to home life, so I want to set up and play lighthouse keeper once more.” The boys slept but poorly and were up with the sun, to go outside and look eagerly across the water for some trace of their missing companion. But there was nothing to be seen and they went back to the lighthouse, to find the captain busy preparing breakfast for all hands. The meal, which was an excellent one, was eaten in silence for the most part, and when it was over, and they had cleared things up, they left the lighthouse. The relief keeper accompanied them to the boat and wished them luck. “If anything comes up here I’ll let you know if I can,” he promised. “If the boy turns up here I’ll hold him here until you return. Don’t you worry a mite, everything’ll work out fine.” The run back to Mystery Island was accomplished in a very short time and the boys stopped only long enough to load fresh water on the sloop. A fine spring back of the captain’s shack supplied them with the water, and they filled the tanks while the captain arranged for a prolonged absence. The preparations on his part consisted of the act of leaving a big supply of seeds for the parrot and some final and solemn instructions, and then they boarded the Lassie for their search. Under motor power they headed out for the south shore and passed the lighthouse at fair speed. They all agreed that the shore beyond the lighthouse would be the logical region to investigate. “As long as Terry went down to that natural dock,” argued the captain, who sat at the tiller, “it looks like he may have been carted off—providin’ he was carted off—down the shore that way. Of course, it is possible that he was run up the coast, but we’ll have to chance that. The whole problem is a mighty ticklish one, and we’ll have to take chances.” They kept in toward the shore as closely as they dared, watching the shore for signs of large creeks or rivers, and twice during the morning they actually rowed up inlets for some distance to see if any strange craft might be hidden. But in each instance their search was in vain and they returned to the sloop, to resume their sail. From time to time they passed towns, small villages, most of them, but for the most part the coast in that section of the country was wild and empty of life. They ate lunch while still sailing, and the early part of the afternoon went by in the same manner as the morning had. It was about three o’clock in the afternoon when they approached a small town which their map assured them was Scarboro, and Don decided to go ashore and buy some food. The chief of police had assured them on the previous night that he would have a general description of both Terry and the keeper sent all along the coast. The party knew that if anyone in any of the coast towns saw the missing men they would be held and rescued. They decided, therefore, after talking the matter over, to anchor for the night in the little bay at Scarboro and press on the next day. The job of simply sailing onward in hopes of learning something was disappointing in the main, but they had no other way of accomplishing anything. Rather than sit around at the lighthouse and wait for something to happen they decided to keep on hunting. They tied up at the dock and Don went ashore and to the town, a small community of shingled houses which clustered around a few stores and a postoffice. His first act was to seek the local switchboard and get the operator to put through a call to the lighthouse at Needle Point. That took him a good twenty minutes, and the result was disappointing. Nothing had been learned of the whereabouts of either the missing keeper or Terry. Greatly discouraged, Don went to the local grocery store and began to order supplies. He was moving from counter to counter, picking out fresh and canned goods with a critical eye to their fitness, when a woman came into the store. At the time the place was unoccupied except by Don and the storekeeper, and she imitated Don in picking out her own goods. Don had glanced idly at her when she came in, and then looked away, his mind busy with his shopping. But as he waited for the storekeeper to wrap up butter he looked once more at the woman. “Now, where in the world have I seen that woman?” the boy wondered. He looked searchingly at her sharp face, the plain black hat and the long musty looking coat. “It can’t be—jeepers, it is!” He turned his face away swiftly, his heart beating more rapidly as the recognition came to him. It was indeed the woman who had been in the house at Mystery Island, the one from whom he had tried to buy the eggs. Don could not help regarding the circumstance as a wonderful piece of luck. If the woman was in the neighborhood it was more than likely that the marine gang was there too. Of course it was always possible that they might have split up and she might be living here in the town, but Don believed that through her some clue might be found which would prove worth while. He was careful to keep his face away from her during the remainder of the time that he was in the store and when his purchases were all made he left hurriedly. He feared that if the woman looked at him closely she would recognize him and be on her guard, but apparently she did not, for when he left the store she was busy selecting articles and paid no attention to him. Securely hidden behind a large tree on the other side of the street Don watched until the woman came out of the store and then began to follow her. He at once marked her manner as she came out. In the store she had been free and easy, paying no particular attention to anyone who went by or to Don himself. The boy felt sure that she was not known to the storekeeper, for as he had gone out he had heard the man say, “What else do you want, lady?” Don felt sure that had the storekeeper known the woman he would have called her by some name, in the manner of most country storekeepers, but he had not done so, and Don felt that she was a stranger in the town. It was possible that the bandits’ boat was near and that she had landed to buy provisions for the men. Her first move, after looking all around the crooked street, was to go to the tobacco store and remain there for two minutes. When she came out she had a good-sized bundle, and Don was sure that she had bought a good supply of the cigars and cigarettes for the men. She had now apparently made all the purchases that she intended to, for, after another sharp glance about, she took the road leading away from the town and toward the beach. Don was now sorry that he had such a large bundle with him, and after thinking it over for a moment he ran across the street and back into the store, where he asked the man in charge if he might leave the bulky package there. Permission was readily granted and when he had deposited the bundle behind a counter Don hastily left the store and took the road to the beach. He hurried on, fearing that he would lose the warm trail which he had been fortunate enough to stumble across, but when he topped a small rise he saw her below him, still hurrying along, looking from side to side and making for a particularly deserted spot on the beach. Don was on a rise of ground which made it unnecessary for him to go any further. There were few houses below him and no part of the beach or sand dunes which could hide the woman, and he realized that it would be foolish to go any further. He crouched down behind some bayberry bushes and watched the woman, and a minute later he was glad that he had done so. The woman was glancing back of her now and she would surely have seen him had he been standing up. Arriving at the beach the woman waved her hand, and from the arm of the land which formed one side of the little bay a rowboat shot out. Don was now on the other side of the bay and could not see his own boat nor indeed any of the few craft which were tied up at the Scarboro dock. He was now overlooking a stretch of the beach and ocean which they had not yet seen from the Lassie, that stretch which they intended to examine in the morning. The only object in view on the water, beside the little rowboat, was an old wreck of a three-masted schooner, which lay on a sand bar a mile to the south of him. The boat came up to the shore, and the man who was rowing took the packages from the woman and placed them in the boat. Next he handed her in and then resumed his place at the oars. With long, sweeping strokes he sent the rowboat along the shore. “That looks like Frank,” reflected Don. “But I wonder where he’s heading for?” It was some time before he found out. Until almost abreast of the wreck the rowboat was kept parallel with the shore. But as they drew nearer the wreck the man headed the boat out to it, and to Don’s amazement they went on board. Then, for the first time, he noticed the top of a small black cruiser beside the wrecked schooner. With this information, Don turned and went back to the store, retrieved his package and fairly ran down to the sloop. Jim and the captain were sitting on the deck, anxiously watching for him. “Hello,” hailed the captain. “We thought you had disappeared, too. Was just goin’ to send out a rescue party to look you up, wasn’t we, Jimmie?” Jim nodded. “We sure were. What’s the matter, Don? You look as though you had discovered something. Have they heard anything at the lighthouse?” Don put down his bundle. “No, not a thing, but listen to this.” And he proceeded to tell them what he had seen. When he had finished the captain jumped to his feet. “That sounds like somethin’ promising at last,” he declared. “The dusk is coming on and we’ve got just enough time to climb that hill and take a look at that wreck. Just lock up and we’ll go.” Don locked the sloop and they went ashore, making for the hill which formed an arm of the bay. From the top of it they looked down the coast and Don pointed out the wreck. The captain studied it with interest. “Big enough to make quite a hangout,” he said. “And just the place for them to keep under cover. Well, mates, what do you say we go aboard the three-master as soon as it gets good and dark?” They agreed at once, and after going back to the sloop they ate a hearty meal. The prospect of action after so many hours of uncertainty was like a refreshing drink of cold water after intense heat. Impatiently they waited for total darkness, and even when it came the captain seemed to be wasting valuable time. The town and the bay had been wrapped in complete blackness for half an hour before the captain again told Don to close his hatch and get ready. They piled into the dinghy, the captain stowing a good flashlight in his side pocket. He insisted upon rowing out to the wreck, and although the boys protested, they finally stopped, knowing that he was better at it than they were. With long, steady strokes the old seaman sent the dinghy through the water, around the point, and toward the wrecked schooner. |
|
