THE MYSTERY SHIP
When Ned Blake and Dick Somers arrived at the Coleson house the next
afternoon, they listened to a tale beside which Sam’s story was
colorless by comparison. Dave Wilbur, who had brought the relief guard
in his convenient flivver, was inclined to be skeptical.
“Use your bean!” he urged, as Beals and Rogers set forth the details of
their terrifying experience. “You two are getting as loony as Sam! You
probably heard something that scared you and then imagined you saw a
whole lot in one flash of lightning!”
“I’ll bet you five dollars that you don’t dare stay here alone tonight!”
rasped Charlie Rogers, wrathfully.
“Can’t do it,” drawled Dave. “I’ve got half a day’s work to do yet
before sundown. Hop in here now, you bewitched watchmen! Let’s get
going!”
Left to themselves, Ned and Dick carefully examined the ground where had
occurred the alleged ghostly happenings so vividly described by Beals
and Rogers.
“It’s mighty funny that if there actually was somebody out here between
the house and the woods, he or she or it didn’t leave a single track of
any kind,” mused Ned as he surveyed the open space with puzzled eyes.
“Here’s over thirty yards of sand from the house to the hard ground near
the woods and not a mark on it, except our own tracks!”
“Well, if the same thing happens again tonight, we’ll try to have a
better look at it than Red and Fatty could get in one flash of
lightning,” declared Dick. “I’m hoping it stays clear after the moon
comes up.”
Dick’s wish was granted only in part, however, for after climbing above
the line of trees, the moon was covered much of the time by drifting
clouds, through which it peeped at infrequent intervals. The boys had
decided to pass the night outside the house, as this would allow them to
observe a much more extensive part of the premises than could be seen
from inside. The spot selected for their sentry post was a thicket of
oak, from which they had an unobstructed view of the stretch of sand
between the end of the house and the woods. At intervals one or the
other crept from this leafy covert and scouted entirely around the
building, moving with caution and scanning every possible approach to
the house. Returning from one of these rounds, Dick reported the lights
of a vessel out upon the lake.
“Let’s take a look at her,” suggested Ned, and together they walked down
to the beach.
The vessel seemed to be moving in a southwesterly direction, and they
could see the ruddy gleam of her port light.
“She’s some freight boat making for Cleveland,” guessed Dick, but even
as he spoke, the green starboard light flashed into view and it was
evident that the boat had altered her course and headed in shore.
For a time the boys watched the strange craft as it drew steadily
nearer, when suddenly her lights winked out, leaving her a black hulk
which loomed dimly in the darkness.
“Well, what the deuce does _that_ mean! What is she up to now?”
exclaimed Dick.
As if in reply to his question, a long, thin finger of light reached out
from the vessel’s bow and played along the shore, not twenty yards from
where the boys stood.
“Down! Quick! Don’t let ’em see us!” cried Ned, flinging himself flat
upon the sand.
Dick dropped beside him and together they watched with fascinated gaze
the small circle of light as it crept toward them along the ground.
Nearer and still nearer it came, but just as it seemed about to settle
upon them the spot lifted suddenly and touched instead the wall of the
house, which it slowly swept from end to end.
“That’s the light we saw Saturday night,” whispered Dick. “A searchlight
that shot through the window when you opened the shutter!”
“Yes, and I think I know what they are searching for,” replied Ned in
the same low tone. “Look!” and seizing Dick’s arm he pointed to the
white mark now clearly illuminated as the circle of light came to rest
upon the chimney of the house.
“The ranges!” Dick’s voice rasped in his throat. “She’s picking up the
old range marks!”
In a moment the top of the tall whitened stake at the water’s edge was
touched by the thin beam of light and it was evident that the mysterious
craft was creeping shoreward in line with stake and chimney. And now
there occurred something that brought a gasp of astonishment from the
two watchers lying prone and motionless upon the sand. A hundred yards
or more from shore and just ahead of the oncoming vessel, the quiet
surface of the water was suddenly agitated into ripples which silvered
as the moon poured its rays through a great ragged break in the clouds
and disclosed a small dark shape that seemed to rise from the depths and
float upon the surface. Instantly the searchlight was extinguished and
the darkened vessel drifting slowly shoreward came to a stop beside the
floating object.
“That thing is a marking buoy,” muttered Ned under his breath. “Now
we’ll see what’s going on here!”
In this, however, the boys were doomed to disappointment. Heavy clouds
again blotted out the moon, and although the watchers crept to the
water’s edge, they could see nothing except the dark hull of the vessel
as it lay motionless.
“They’re probably coming ashore in a small boat. Be ready to run if they
land near us,” warned Ned.
But no boat was lowered from the mysterious stranger and, except for an
occasional faint splash, no sound reached the eager ears on shore. An
hour passed and then it was seen that the vessel was in motion.
Gradually her dark form grew dimmer till it melted from sight amid the
shadows that lay black upon the broad lake. Again for a brief moment the
clouds parted and the brilliant moonlight whitened the sands and tipped
the tiny ripples with its radiance. Every rock and bush along shore
stood revealed with startling distinctness, but on the silvered surface
of the lake nothing was to be seen. The buoy—if such it was—had
vanished.
“I suppose that boat took it away,” suggested Dick.
“Possibly, but I’m not sure,” replied Ned. “We saw it appear and maybe
sometime we’ll find out where it came from and where it went. There
doesn’t seem to be anything that we can do here. Let’s get back to the
house; it’s almost two o’clock.”
Retracing their steps, the boys had reached the scrub oak when they
halted with one accord and stared through the leafy screen.
“What did you think you saw?” demanded Ned, sharply.
“Why, why, it might have been a firefly,” stammered Dick, “but just for
an instant I fancied it was a—”
“You thought maybe it was the tail light of an automobile going into
that old wood-road,” interrupted Ned, grimly. “That’s what you
thought—and I guess maybe you were right.”
“Can we follow it?” asked Dick.
Ned shook his head. “There’s no use chasing out there in the dark. Even
if it was an auto, we’d have no chance of catching up with it. We’d best
try to get a little sleep and wait for daylight.”
Rolling themselves in their blankets, the boys lay for a long time,
talking over the exciting events that had transpired since they first
began work on the Coleson house. Instead of clearing up, the situation
was growing more and more complicated, and after racking their brains in
fruitless efforts to solve the puzzle, they at last fell asleep.
The sun shining through the oak leaves above his head roused Ned Blake,
and sitting up, he looked at his watch. It was nearly nine o’clock.
“Wake up, Dick!” he cried, pulling the blanket from his companion’s
shoulders. “It’s late! We ought to have been on the job hours ago!”
Dick struggled to his feet, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and
followed Ned, who was hurrying through the bushes in the direction of
the old wood-road. Quickly but thoroughly the boys examined every foot
of ground between the entrance to the road and the house. Broken weeds
and crushed leaves showed where some vehicle had passed along the stony
way, but not until the boys were close to the house did they come upon
an unmistakable sign. On the hard earth amid the scrub oaks, a black
splotch caught Ned’s eye.
“Here’s where an auto was standing only a few hours ago,” he declared
positively. “This is oil that dripped from the gears.”
“It’s oil sure enough,” agreed Dick, poking at the black mass with a
stick, “but isn’t it possible that it came from one of the cars that
were out here Saturday night?”
“If it had been here since Saturday night, that heavy thunder shower
would have washed it into the ground,” objected Ned. “No, this is fresh
oil and we know there was no car here up to midnight.”
“Which means it was run in here while we were watching that boat down on
the shore,” growled Dick, disgustedly. “What rotten luck!”
“Yes, one of us should have kept watch up here,” admitted Ned. “We lost
a good chance to get a look at our mysterious visitors, but we’ll know
better next time.”
Dave Wilbur, chief of transportation, was not expected till afternoon,
but he appeared soon after eleven o ’clock. And he came alone.
“Wat Sanford and Jim Tapley are drafted for tonight’s guard duty, but
Wat funked the job and Jim won’t come without him,” explained Dave.
“Wat’s naturally superstitious anyhow and Red and Fatty have fed him up
with that bedtime story of theirs, till he’s so jumpy he’d see Coleson
or Coleson’s great-grandmother if you hollered boo at him!”
“Well, he’d have seen something queerer than any of the Coleson family,
if he’d been here last night,” declared Dick, proceeding to give an
account of the night’s happenings.
“So while you two were watching some tub out on the lake, a car ran in
here and out again,” remarked Wilbur dryly. “Well, ‘when the cat’s away,
the mice’ll play,’ but take my advice,” he continued more seriously, “no
matter what you saw—or what you _thought_ you saw—don’t say a word to
the boys about it. If Wat gets another jolt, he may refuse to come out
here Saturday night, and a jazz orchestra without a trap-drummer would
be about as jazzy as a church picnic. Tip off Red and Fatty if you like,
but make ’em lay off Wat Sanford with their ghost stuff.”
As there was nothing to be accomplished by remaining longer at the
house, it was decided to return to town without delay. Charlie Rogers
and Tommy Beals were waiting in the Wilbur yard when the three drove in.
“Did you fellows see anything out there last night?” asked Rogers
eagerly, as he and Tommy followed the car into the garage.
Ned paused to close the garage doors against possible intrusion and then
proceeded with a more or less detailed account of what had occurred.
“Then you didn’t get a sight of that—that creature; that big, shapeless,
humpbacked-looking thing that Red and I saw standing between the end of
the house and the woods?” asked Beals.
“Oh, you needn’t look so darned wise, Dave!” snapped Charlie Rogers, his
peppery temper flaring at sight of Wilbur’s ill-concealed grin. “Fatty
and I saw it—even if it was only for an instant. If Ned and Dick had
stayed up at the house, they might have seen it also!”
“That is quite possible,” interposed Ned, quickly, “and although we
didn’t actually catch sight of a person or anything that looked like
one, we saw enough to make us sure that there’s something mighty queer
going on out there. We’ve got to find out what it is, but until we _do_
solve the mystery, let’s not say much about it—especially to Wat or
Jim.”
“You talk about solving the mystery,” began Tommy, doubtfully. “Have you
got any idea, Ned?”
“No, I haven’t,” admitted Ned, “but I’d like to investigate that old
wood-road. We might stumble onto something.”
“How about it, Dave? Will you run us out there?” asked Rogers, who was
eager to begin the proposed search.
“Sure thing,” grinned Wilbur. “I’d like nothing better than to get a
look at some of this ghost stuff with my own eyes.”