ROGER THE MAROONED
No word came from the Manor the next day, only a big bunch of fragrant
lilies for Win and some jelly of which Paget alone knew the secret
recipe. Early Tuesday morning Max's prophesied storm arrived in earnest
and the young people at Rose Villa saw the Granville boat leave her
pier amid sheets of driving rain. Her decks looked dreary and deserted,
for all the passengers were inside.
"I suppose Mr. Max is on board for he was obliged to go," observed
Frances, as the steamer disappeared in low-hanging banks of fog
drifting continually nearer shore.
"Yes," agreed Win, who was dressed and about, though still looking ill.
"There will be some word when he gets back to Paris. It stormed so
yesterday that he probably couldn't go into the cave as he planned."
"Life seems very tame after all the interesting things that happened
last week," sighed Frances, gathering her French grammar and other
school books. "Rain or no rain, there will be school, and English rain
seems somehow _wetter_ than American. You'd better eat that jelly, Win.
According to Nurse, it is the elixir of life and warranted to cure
every ill known to man."
Win smiled as he watched his sister and Edith down the steps, and waved
a listless hand as they turned inquiring faces under bobbing umbrellas
at the end of the terrace. He looked enviously after Roger, a tall slim
clothespin in black rubber coat and boots, sou'wester pulled firmly
over his head, tramping sturdily toward the beach, evidently on some
definite errand. Win would have liked mightily to be swinging along
with him through the storm, but the fun of facing a tempest was not for
Win.
For a few moments he stood idly by the window, wondering whether Connie
knew what Max had possibly discovered in his inspection of cave and
vaults. Then he turned with a sigh, reminding himself that with the
weather what it was, and in this land of few telephones, there was no
chance of hearing anything from the Manor.
Gradually the stormy morning passed, somewhat dully for Win, who still
felt unfit to study or even to occupy himself with a book, and lay upon
the couch while his mother read aloud.
Frances returned from school, ravenously hungry and quite rosy with the
rain that had beaten in her face.
"Mother, I am nearly starved!" she announced.
"Why, it is time for luncheon," said Mrs. Thayne, awakening to a
realization of that fact. "But where is Roger? He can't have taken the
whole morning just to deliver that message for Estelle."
"He could easily, Mother," said Win. "Why, if I had a chance to get out
in this storm, I feel sure it would take me forever to do the simplest
errand. He'll come home when he's hungry."
The gong for luncheon sounded and the three sat down to Annette's
delicious scallops, daintily creamed in their own big shells, her
French bread and perfect chocolate. Still Roger did not come.
Nurse took the plates, and brought dessert; fruit, clotted cream with
plum jam, and a special glass of egg-nog for Win.
"Shall we put Mr. Roger's lunch to the fire?" she asked of Mrs. Thayne.
"I don't see why he doesn't come. He can't have gone to the Manor and
if he had, they would have sent word if he were staying. No, you
needn't keep it warm, Nurse. Unless he has some very good excuse when
he comes, he may lunch upon bread and milk. It's really very naughty of
him to go off like this when he had lessons to learn."
"It's queer where he can be," observed Fran. "He started on his errand
just after Edith and I came out and saw Annette buying scallops of the
fish-woman. He's crazy about them you know, and he asked particularly
if they were for luncheon, and told her to be sure to get plenty."
"Oh, I don't suppose anything has happened," said Mrs. Thayne quietly,
for she did not wish Win to worry.
When Roger was still missing half an hour later, Mrs. Thayne sought
Estelle.
"Whatever can have happened?" said Estelle helplessly. "I can't think.
Did he have any money?"
"Why, perhaps a few pence, not much anyway," replied Mrs. Thayne. "You
think he went into St. Helier's and had to walk back? That's possible.
Fran, it's not storming so hard now. Put on your rain-coat and run out
to the end of the terrace. Perhaps with the field-glasses you can make
out whether he is coming down the beach or is anywhere in sight."
Frances returned with the report that there was practically no beach,
owing to the high tide, and no foot-farers on the narrow strip that was
visible in the fog.
Neither Estelle nor Mrs. Thayne knew what was best to do. Estelle
suggested the police and then the rector, but neither seemed to Mrs.
Thayne likely to offer a solution.
"We will wait a while," she said with an anxious glance at the clock
just striking two. "Don't do or say anything to let Win think I am
worried, Fran. Let me take your coat. I'll go down to the beach myself.
I really think that Roger should be punished for causing us such
anxiety."
Had his mother only known, Roger was already enduring considerable
self-inflicted penance for getting into a predicament which made it
impossible for him to return.
Delivering Estelle's message at a cottage by the shore had taken but a
few moments and with most of the morning before him, Roger set out
along the beach, glorying in the force of wind and rain. True, there
were lessons to be prepared for Bill Fish, who would come cheerfully
swimming in at the appointed hour, but there was surely time for a
stroll toward Noirmont Point.
The tide was far out and wet hard sand stretched in every direction,
very pleasing to stamp over, and retaining little trace of any
footprint. Only gray gulls and drifting fog banks distinguished the
immediate surroundings.
As Roger tramped on, he noticed that the fog grew steadily thicker and
that his path included occasional seaweed-covered rocks, but not until
a black mass loomed up before him, did he realize that he had left the
true beach and was walking straight out to sea. The bulk he had
encountered was not the martello tower on Noirmont Point but the old
castle of St. Aubin's, at high tide an island in the bay.
No thought of any danger in his position struck Roger. He had always
intended to investigate that island but somehow had never yet done so.
Here it lay before him.
Climbing the rocks upon which the castle stands, he made a careful
survey of its outside and finally gained access to the interior, much
disappointed to find nothing at all remarkable, though St. Aubin's
castle is not wholly a ruin and was once rented and occupied for a
season by an eccentric Englishman.
Nothing was now visible save swirling fog and for the first time, Roger
realized what that fog meant. He hastily made his way to the little
beach, where the tide, still out, would permit him to cross to the
mainland. To start in the right direction was simple enough, for he
very well knew which side of the castle faced the shore, but he had
taken scarcely twenty steps down the sand when he saw that he had no
certainty of keeping his bearings once the island was left behind.
Roger was only twelve, but he was possessed of common-sense and
self-reliance. Though the youngest of the family he had been so
thoroughly impressed with the necessity of considering "safety first"
in regard to Win, that in an emergency of any kind he was usually
level-headed. He stopped where he was, searching his pockets for the
compass Captain Thayne had given to each of his three children.
Roger's pockets yielded a strange and varied assortment of objects,
presumably of value, but no compass. He looked irresolutely behind
where the castle was just visible as a darker spot in the fog. Nothing
at all could be distinguished ahead.
From the lighthouse on the point came the tolling of a bell, but its
warning tones were so scattered and disguised by the fog, that its
sound was of no use as a guide.
For several moments Roger stood where he was. The distance to shore was
not great if he was only certain of going straight ahead. To swerve
from that direction meant wandering out to meet the cruel Jersey tide,
presently coming in like a hunter on its prey. To remain where he was
meant anxious hours for his mother and for Win, about whom Roger was
already so much concerned.
Having weighed the alternatives, he took five steps forward and stood
absolutely surrounded by the whirling mist. A sort of horror came over
him, a keen realization of his helplessness before one of the great
elemental forces of nature. The risk was too great! There was a chance
that he might keep in the right direction with nothing to guide him,
but it was only a chance. Worried as his mother would doubtless be,
better that she endure a few hours of anxiety than lasting grief.
Turning squarely about, Roger retraced his footsteps, already faint, to
the castle, where he perched forlornly on a high rock. A little later,
he heard for he could not see, the low hiss and gurgle of the coming
tide. Roger was a big, strong, brave boy, but at the sound, he could
not suppress a few tears, and they were not wholly for his own plight.
Mrs. Thayne returned from her fruitless expedition to the beach,
looking still more distressed.
"I can't imagine where Roger is," she said anxiously to Frances. "Of
course, there may be some good excuse for this performance, but I don't
see what it can be. He knows that he is not to go into town without
permission and it seems as though he would have come home for luncheon
unless he was in St. Helier's. If he really has been disobedient and
played truant again into the bargain, I shall ask Mr. Fisher to punish
him."
"Oh, Mother," said Frances, "Roger wouldn't deliberately frighten us,
especially when he's been so upset over Win."
"But where _is_ he?" said Mrs. Thayne again. "Thank goodness! Here's
Mr. Fisher."
She hurried down to intercept the tutor at the door. Lingering at the
head of the stair, Frances heard her name called from Win's room.
"Is Mother dreadfully troubled?" he asked as she entered. "I think
Roger went back to the cave and has been shut in."
"Oh, I hope not," said Frances. "Mother's annoyed but it seems to me he
must be all right. When he gets ready he will turn up with some
wonderful tale of adventure."
"I suspect he's in some scrape," said Win. "Might not be such a bad
idea to appeal to the police after all. I only wish I wasn't such a
helpless stick," he added rather bitterly.
"Mr. Fisher has gone down to the beach," reported Frances from the
window. "I'm glad he's come, for Mother will feel better to have him to
consult."
Both were silent for a moment, thinking of Roger, blunt, loyal,
impulsive Roger, hoping that nothing serious had befallen him.
Presently Mrs. Thayne came, her face expressing a calm she did not
feel. "Mr. Fisher thinks there is no cause for us to worry," she
remarked placidly. "He is going to take what he calls a 'turn about the
town.' Frances, suppose you go on reading to Win while I sew a little."
Frances took the book Win held out to her, and Mrs. Thayne's fingers
twitched the needle through her embroidery, both ears alert for sound
of returning steps. The clock struck three and then four. Nothing
happened. Roger did not come and Mr. Fisher did not reappear.
Over on St. Aubin's tiny island, Roger watched the water creep steadily
up the rocks, up and up until it broke almost at the foundations of the
castle. Cruel, cold, and gray it looked and hungry and chilly was the
boy who watched. Once a gull flew so close that he could almost touch
it as it vanished like a ghost into the fog.
At intervals Roger inspected his watch, counting the moments till the
tide should cease to make. At last the water stopped climbing the
rocks, remained stationary, fell an inch. The next wave broke still
farther below.
But unless the fog should lift, ebb tide would only duplicate Roger's
predicament of the morning. Toward four he saw that the mist was
gradually growing lighter; saw water visible fifty feet from the
island. Presently a breeze sprang into being, the most welcome wind
Roger had ever known. Before it the fog thinned, grew filmy, dispersed
in shreds of trailing vapor. Noirmont Point and St. Aubin's village
came gradually into distinct view, and with them a man walking along
the sand.
Water ten feet deep and many wide still barred Roger from the shore and
he could not make himself heard above the slow heave of the rollers
lazily breaking on the beach. Was there no way to attract the
saunterer's attention?
Finding a long branch, relic of some storm-wrecked tree, Roger tied his
handkerchief to it and waved vigorously. After a time, the man on the
beach noticed the flag and stood looking toward it.
A bright idea struck Roger. At home he had belonged to a troop of boy
scouts and knew the signals. He would experiment on this stranger.
Just by chance, Mr. Fisher at one time had been a scout-master and
instantly realized that Roger, marooned on St. Aubin's island, was
trying to send a message. Hastily improvising a flag, he responded.
Twenty minutes later, Mrs. Thayne, still nervously sewing, heard Mr.
Fisher run up the steps and Estelle hurry to the door. A few brief
seconds sufficed to give the explanation Roger had so painstakingly
signaled.
"I didn't stop to rescue him, Mrs. Thayne," explained Mr. Fisher,
"because his one thought was for you and Win, not to let you worry a
moment longer."
"Can't you get a boat and row out for him?" asked Estelle, seeing that
Mrs. Thayne was unable to speak. "Poor dear boy, he must be cold and
famished."
"I'm off to Noirmont Point," replied Mr. Fisher briefly. "It shouldn't
take long to pull over and back, provided that I pick up a boat
quickly."
In spite of the tutor's best efforts, darkness had fallen before the
marooned prisoner was returned to his anxious family, who sat around to
see him eat everything pressed upon him. Roger was pale and very
subdued. Strangest of all, he had come up Noirmont Terrace pressed
close to the side of the obnoxious Bill Fish and not in the least
resenting the hand that rested on his shoulder.
Having consumed all the food in sight, he yielded without protest to
his mother's desire that he should go to bed in order to ward off
possible chill. When Mr. Fisher, heartily thanked, had taken his
departure, Mrs. Thayne started for Roger's room. On its threshold she
stopped for the boys were talking.
"I hated it like time out there," said Roger, now reposing luxuriously
in bed. "But I hated worse to have you and Mother worried. I didn't
purposely go over to the island, Win."
"I know you didn't," said his brother. "I was sure that something you
couldn't help had happened."
"It did," sighed Roger. "I guess I'll never again do anything that
worries Mother, now I know how it feels to worry over somebody myself.
And I say, Win, Bill Fish is all right! To think of his knowing the
scout signals! And he pulled out for me himself in a heavy old dory
that weighed a ton. Why, Bill Fish isn't so bad!"
"And have you just found that out?" asked Win laughing. "I've known it
all the time."